


A Ghost for Every Season

by saltwatergirl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, American setting, Angst, Case Fic, Christmas, Cold Case AU, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Flashbacks/Memories, Homicide Detective Zayn, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder Mystery, POV Multiple, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwatergirl/pseuds/saltwatergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On June 15 2010, Philly PD is called to a crime scene. The victim is later identified as Liam Payne, age 22. He had been shot in the face and set alight. Despite a 9 month long investigation his killer was never found.</p><p>On November 12, 2015,  Liam’s credit card is used, resulting in his cold case being re-opened. Detective Zayn Malik is drawn to Liam Payne, the moment he opens Liam’s file and he soon becomes obsessed with solving his murder. In the dead of winter, a series of clues lead Zayn to a Northern Maine town where he makes a shocking discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [equallydestructive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/equallydestructive/gifts).



> This story was inspired by the Cold Case episode 'Joseph' (season 3 finale). 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, [knewkirk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/knewkirk) for the beta read.

#####  _June 12, 2010_

It was a Saturday night at the Browning Recovery Centre which meant movie night. Liam Payne was a junior addiction counselor at the inpatient, teenage rehab facility. His film pick was ‘The Sound of Music’. He’d thought it would be a good distraction for his group but by their blurry-eyed consensus the film was a cure for insomnia. They were bored, half of them were asleep, the other half appeared like they were about to nod off, not that he could blame them. The AC unit in the rec room had died earlier that day and they were baking in the heat. A few fans had been set up around the room, but they provided little reprieve from the heat. He was perspiring through his T-shirt and was fantasizing about the cool shower he would take when he arrived home.  

Liam glanced around the room, wondering if he should call it a night. The last students who had been valiantly fighting sleep seemed to have succumbed. The only other person still awake was Candice who was munching on popcorn while scowling at the television screen.

"Can this film be any more boring?" Candice grumbled when she caught Liam’s eye.

"It's a classic." Liam responded.

"Classic is a word old people use to describe anything that’s out-dated." Candice slipped her headphones on and the soft strings of rock music started to play. Deciding that movie night was officially a dud, Liam reached for the remote and switched the TV off.

“It's just past midnight.” Liam nudged Tanner awake. "Candice, switch that off for a second.”

"You're not going to make a speech, are you?" She rolled her eyes but did as he asked, the music fading away to silence. The rest of the group was slowly waking.

"I know it’s a long, winding road and sometimes you’ve thought about quitting," Liam said. "You’ve made it half way through. I’d like to share a great quote with you, ‘It may not seem like it now but your best days are ahead of you. The movie starts when the guy gets sober and puts his life back together; it doesn't end there.’ And remember take-"

"Each day as it comes," the group said in unison. 

"That’s the spirit." Liam watched his counseling group walk out. Candice remained seated on the beanbag, her pink iPod in her hands.  Liam approached her.  “What’s on your mind, Candice?”

"Why do people lie?" she asked quietly.

"Lie about what?"

"Stuff." She shrugged. "Everything.”

"Sometimes people keep secrets to protect the ones that they love."

Candice studied him, her eyes shadowed. She tucked a strand of red hair behind her left ear before staring down at her sneakers.

"Candice, is there something you want to say?" Liam noticed the bandages peeking beneath the yellow jersey she wore despite the heat. She was cutting again.

"Of all the councilors in this place I liked you the most." Candice looked up at him, her eyes lit up by quiet fury. "Too bad you’re a liar like the rest of them.”  She headed towards the door.

“Candice, if there’s something-”

"Next week - I get to pick the movie?" She turned, giving him a tired grin.

"Um, sure," Liam replied.

She waved at him and left the room. It was the last time that either one of them would ever speak, but Liam didn't know it then. He picked up the popcorn debris and the soda cans, threw them in the trash before he locked the rec room. He used his staff card to exit the Browning Recovery Centre and drove home.

##### ***

#####  _June 15, 2010_

_"10-72 reported on Langley Street."_

Officer Jeff Brody swore under his breath. Langley Street was situated in a rough, West Philly neighborhood which was notorious for being a drug dealing hub. At 10:20PM it was the last place he wanted to be.

 “Officer en route.” He spoke into his scanner and drove towards Langley Street.  The buildings grew more dilapidated, the semi-detached houses more rundown.  The homeless were scattered about this part of town, sleeping in boxes on the sidewalk.  The streetlights didn’t work and most of the road was shrouded in darkness. He pulled up to where Langley Street intersect 52nd  and parked his squad car, headlights lighting up the graffitied walls. The feeling of uneasiness grew inside him.

"Officer on site." Jeff climbed out of his car and saw a figure run out a nearby alley. "Freeze!"

 Jeff ran after the suspect who was a fucking gazelle, covering ground in break neck speed. The figure disappeared down the street.  Jeff stopped, gasping as he ran out of steam.

"Be on the lookout for suspect: Caucasian male in a blue hoodie.” He wheezed into his receiver.  “He’s on foot running from the scene."

He turned back to the dark alley, drawing his weapon.  A single vehicle was parked in it with smoke crawling out of its closed windows. He walked around the car and spotted someone slumped over the steering wheel. Jeff tried the door but it was locked. He picked up his receiver.

"There’s a car on fire with someone inside it. Call the fire department and an ambulance." He looked around and saw a brick lying next to a dumpster. He picked it up and used it to break the passenger window. Flames shot up in the air, the smell of burning flesh ripe in his nostrils, making him wretch. He realized that it wasn't the car that was on fire. It was the driver. Jeff stepped back helplessly

"Oh my god," he said.

The fire department arrived on the scene a few minutes later, the ambulance after that. The man in the car was pronounced legally dead by the EMTs.

##### ***

#####  _March 6, 2011_

Detective Frank Castillo looked over the Liam Payne case. Dozens of witness had been interviewed but they’d had zero leads on a suspect.  The investigation had been cold for months, he was just making it official. Although he would never say it out loud he figured whoever had killed Payne would probably get away with it. Detective Castillo sighed heavily and packed away all the pages and photos into the file before he took the box down to the cold case department for archiving.

In a few weeks, case M06/2010 was all but forgotten by him.


	2. Chapter 2

#####  _November 2, 2015_

His alarm was beeping.

Detective Zayn Malik rolled onto his side and banged at it. When it went silent he lounged for a moment, mustering the energy to get out of bed. His head vaguely ached, signaling he'd had one too many the night before. The department had been celebrating getting a conviction on the Tracie Morris case. It had only taken 28 years and countless men and women in blue to get that sick fuck behind bars for good. It was worth having a hangover knowing that Chad O’Donnell was going to spend the rest of his life in a state penitentiary. 

Zayn felt a wet nose brushed his arm. He opened his eyes and found his Yorkshire terrier, Billie Jean, staring at him accusatorily. Billie Jean wasn’t a pretty dog, half of her face was burnt off and her left eye consisted of mottled scar tissue. Her previous owner, a drug dealer in Fishtown, had harbored a fondness for animal cruelty. After she had been rescued, the vet at the animal clinic had recommended that Billie Jean be put down because of the extent of her injuries. Zayn had been aghast but there had been a moment when he had considered it. But when he had looked into Billie Jean’s eyes, Zayn had known she was a survivor and he had asked the vet to do whatever necessary, to save her.

 It hadn't been an easy journey; years of neglect had left Billie Jean malnourished and small. But she’d made it and been the first resident of what the detectives at the PPD Cold Case division called the ‘Malik Animal Shelter’. Billie Jean leaned forward and nuzzled his neck.

"Yes, I'm up." Zayn sat up and she climbed off the bed, jumping onto the floor, her stump tail waving back and forth.

Zayn glanced at Tracie Morris’ picture on his nightstand. It was her high school year book photo.  Tracie was fifteen, her hair styled in the perm that was fashionable at the time, an oversized pair of glasses perched on her nose. This was the picture that the newspapers had used when covering her case.

Tracie Morris:  the sheltered small-town girl that had been sodomized and raped multiple times before being bludgeoned to death in a field behind her high school gymnasium in 1987. Her case had remained cold until six months ago when twelve year old Kerry Colmar was found dead after being missing for three months. The DNA recovered from Kerry Colmar had matched the DNA of Tracie Morris's killer and a few other rape victims. From there they’d had a break through when Chad O’Donnell was arrested for an unrelated crime and been found to be a perfect match for the unsub on both cases.

Zayn took Tracie Morris’ picture with him on his way to the living room, Billie Jean on his heels. He returned Tracie Morris’ picture into her case file. He’d spent the last six months falling asleep and waking up to her image. With her killer found Tracie could now rest in peace.

Arnie and Harley were sleeping on their mats. Arnie was a German Shepard and Harley was a mixture of everything. As soon as he filled their bowls they woke up, panting excitedly and jostling. Zayn made himself coffee. He turned on the news and the first bulletin he saw was on Chad O’Donnell. He changed channels, no use reminiscing about O’Donnell, he'd seen enough of that sicko’s face to last him a lifetime or two. After he'd chugged down his coffee, he locked up his apartment and drove to work.

##### ***

"Congratulations on the Tracie Morris case," Detective Jake Parker leaned over Zayn's desk. At age twenty-seven he was the youngest of the detectives of the Cold Case division. He was a second generation cop who had the exuberance of a frat boy. Zayn disliked him, but then again, Zayn disliked most people.

"Thanks," Zayn said. Parker was the third person who had come to congratulate him in the last hour.

“How about celebration part two this evening?”  Jake said. “They are some tequila shots with your name on them."

"Russell Bar?" Zayn asked.

"Where else?'

"See you tonight." Zayn said. Jake gave Zayn a 'good job, bro' pat and swaggered off. Zayn returned to his report and got maybe three lines into it before he heard the lieutenant call his name.

"Malik," Lieutenant John Richford was standing outside his office.  His tone was civil enough but it still made Zayn tense.  A former navy seal, John Richford carried himself like a soldier, and being called into his office always teleported Zayn back to high school, when he’d be summoned to the principal’s office. Except his principal hadn’t been rumored to have killed men with his bare hands. “Come into my office."

Zayn got up and walked into the lieutenant’s office, wondering what the lieutenant wanted to speak to him about.  Internal Affairs had been sniffing around their department for a few months and word on the street was that some cases were being investigated for incorrect police protocol.

"Take a seat." Lieutenant Richford appraised Zayn.

"Yes, sir?"

"I have a case I want you to re-open." The lieutenant nodded at a white folder on his desk. “Take a look.” Zayn opened the file, browsing through it. “Last week someone tried to use Payne's ATM card outside a gas station in Vermont.”

“The card was still working after five years?"

“It wasn’t hence the word ‘tried’. I’m thinking this might be our doer.”

In the jacket pocket, tucked in the sleeve, was photo of Liam James Payne. Zayn tugged it lose, looked at it before returning it.

 "I’m on it, Lieutenant." Zayn stood.

"Malik, wait." Lieutenant Richford put on his glasses and opened the drawer. "If you need additional information on the case, you must speak to Detective Frank Castillo; he worked the job five years ago. He's now retired but I'm sure he'd be willing to talk through some details with you."

Zayn took the piece of paper the lieutenant handed him before he returned to his desk where he proceeded to pack away Tracie Morris’ files. He opened case file M06/2010; Liam James Payne, 29 August 1987 - 15 June 2010.

 He began to read.

##### ***

"He'd look good on your bed side table.” Parker slurred drunkenly. They were at Russell Bar-a police watering hole that was a block from the PPD headquarters.

"What are you talking about?" Zayn asked.

"Liam Payne - your new project." Parker raised a hand and indicated that the bartender bring them more drinks. When Zayn shook his head, Parker said, "One more round. They're on me."

Zayn sighed. "Alright."

The bartender poured them tequila shots. Zayn had lost track how many drinks he'd had that evening, he guessed that this was probably drink number four or five; he was going to wake up with a hell of a hangover. Again.

"How do you know?" Zayn asked.

"About that creepy thing you do, placing victims pictures on your bed stand?" Parker smiled mischievously. "Let's just say some of your bed mates aren’t as mysterious as you are and do kiss and tell."

"I'm not mysterious," Zayn sipped his drink.

"You have the brooding, silent thing going. No one knows you, Malik."

"There's not much to know."

Parker set his drink down, his eyes growing remarkably shrewd for someone who had been downing tequila shots like it was last call at spring break. "From my years on the job, people who say shit like that are normally the ones who have skeletons buried deep in their closet."

"Sorry to rock your boat, no skeletons."

"Okay, share with the class. Why did you become a cop?"

"I like to help people."

Parker rolled his eyes. "Bullshit. Plenty of ways to do that which don’t involve donning blue."

"It's the truth." Even though Zayn head was pleasantly buzzing from the alcohol he felt the familiar twinge of discomfort brought on by talking about himself.

"And that creepy thing you do, placing dead people's pictures by your bed - what's up with that?" Parker raised his hands. The bartender placed fresh drinks on the counter.

"With our job it's easy to lose sight that the murder victims were once more than victims and murder statistics." Zayn stared down at his drink. If it wasn’t for the alcohol he probably would side-stepped the topic but he was tired and drunk and Chad O’Donnell was facing a life sentence. "There were once someone's daughter, sister, sons and fathers. They had hopes, dreams and fears. They could easily have been you and me."

"Well said, man. Although you didn’t answer my question – will you be adding Payne to your collection?"

"It's not a collection. Once their case is solved, I return their pictures to their case file."

"And if it doesn't?" Parker asked. “Get solved, that is.”

Zayn glanced at his wristwatch and stood, collecting his jacket from the back of his barstool. "Time does fly when you're having fun. Call an Uber, you shouldn't be on the road."

Parker gave him a drunken salute. "See you tomorrow."

##### ***

Zayn had filled Harley, Arnie and Billie Jean's bowls before he climbed into bed. The M06/2010 case file was on the pillow next to him.  Liam James Payne had been a twenty-two year old drug counselor when he had been murdered. Zayn picked up the empty picture frame and placed Liam’s photo in it. He then placed the frame beside his lamp.

He stared at the picture until his eyes grew heavy and he dozed off.


	3. Chapter 3

#####  _November 5, 2015_

The first person Zayn interviewed on the Liam Payne case was Frank Castillo. Detective Castillo had been with the PPD for thirty-eight years before he retired three years ago. He now spent his days on a fishing boat. He was currently docked at the Philadelphia Marine Centre.

It was a cold Philly morning. Zayn wore a scarf and gloves, sipping coffee he’d bought en-route to the pier. He glanced at his wrist watch. Castillo was running late. Zayn’s head hurt from the tequila shots of the previous night. Getting out of bed to be at the pier by 8:30AM had taken Herculean effort from him.

"Zayn Malik?" a voice said. Zayn turned and saw a grey haired, older man dressed in fishing gear. "Do you want to climb onto my boat?"

"Lead the way," Zayn downed the rest of his coffee and followed after Detective Castillo.

The boat rocked when they climbed onto it. It smelt like fish; there were nets and fishing gear lying on the upper deck. Detective Castillo went below deck where it was heated and marginally warmer.

"Coffee?" Detective Castillo asked. Zayn shook his head. "How ‘bout some whisky?"

"I’m on the clock," Zayn watched the detective pour a liberal amount of amber whisky into his mug.

"You re-opened Liam Payne’s case?" Detective Castillo asked.

"Yes."  Zayn sat on one of the spare chairs. "What can you tell me about it?"

"It was five years ago on a torturously hot summer night," Castillo began. "When I received the call..."

##### ***

#####  _June 15, 2010_

Frank was working another late night, much to his wife’s dismay. She was irritated with him, and always said that at his age he should rest, that there were many young bucks that were willing to do the grunt work and make a name for themselves. He always told her that he would have more than enough time to sleep when he was dead.

The radio went off. "Detective Castillo?"

"Yep," he answered

"There's reported homicide. Vic’s male, who was burnt to death in his motor vehicle." The patrol cop said. "They need a detective on the scene."

“What’s the address?”

“Langley Street just off 52nd.”

"I'm on my way." Frank grabbed his keys and left the station. When he pulled onto Langley he saw the crowd gathered outside an alley. There was an ambulance which had red and blue lights blinking and a PPD squad car. He parked his car and walked towards the crime tape, easing between the crowd. When he got closer to front, he spotted a rookie he recognized.

"What do we have here?" Frank asked as ducked under the yellow tape. He straightening up when the smell hit him. It was burning meat, sort of like fatty pork on the grill but sickening. Human flesh.

. "Around 10:18 a Mrs. Freeman reported that she heard a disturbance in the alley. She called the police. I arrived on the scene at 10:24 and saw a figure in a blue hoodie run down the street.  I then saw the vehicle with an unconscious figure slumped over the steering wheel,” Officer Brody said while holding a handkerchief to his mouth. “He appeared unconscious and been doused with some type incinerator and set alight. I tried to open the door but the handle was jammed." The officer took a breath, his face anguished. "I couldn't get him out. I broke the windows but the air just made the fire worse. I- I-"

"It's alright, son." Frank patted the officer's arm. "I'll take a look at the body."

Medical Examiner Kathryn Barry was on the scene. "I've been waiting for you, detective." She uncovered the body and Frank pressed his hand to his mouth.

"You can tell Officer Brody that even if he’d gotten this kid out of the car that wouldn’t have been any use." She crouched and opened the victim’s mouth. "See the air passage? It’s clean. He was dead already when the fire started." She closed the victim’s mouth.

"What was the cause of death?"

"Gunshot to the head." She lifted the body's head and pointed to a hole in its skull. "Close contact. An autopsy will reveal particles of soot and unburnt powder in the wound track."

“Why set him alight if he’s already dead?” Frank said. “It’s an overkill.”

“Maybe the doer wanted to cover up their tracks.”

"Any positive ID on the victim yet?"

"The vehicle is registered to a Liam James Payne."

"Thanks, Kathryn." Frank wrote down the name on his notepad, took one last glance at the burnt body before he left.  A DNA test would take a couple of hours, there was no use notifying the next of kin until then.

##### ***

#####  _November 5, 2015_

"Once we positively ID’d Payne we began a fruitless, eleven month investigation," Detective Castillo said. “Do you know how many suspects we had at that time? Zero. Langley Street is a drug mecca. Suburban boys like Payne are always cruising it at all hours looking to score. The theory was that it was a drug deal gone bad. But we had nothing concrete.”

"When you spoke to Officer Brody he mentioned that there was a witness to the alley altercation?" Zayn asked.

"Yes, a local cat lady. Mrs. Freeman - I interviewed her around the time. She wasn't much help."

“It won’t hurt to speak to her again,” Zayn said.

##### ***

The years had been cruel to the West Philly district where Langley Street was situated. It was an old neighborhood, mired in poverty and crime.  Zayn pulled up in front of the apartment block Mrs. Freeman had stayed in at the time of Liam Payne’s death. Over the phone, the unhelpful landlord said she’d had moved out four years back and he didn’t have a forwarding address. Zayn figured some of her neighbors might know where she was now. He parked across the street, looking up at the apartment blocks. A couple of years ago it had been painted brown but the paint had since faded and been covered by heavy graffiti. Sitting on the steps of the building’s entrance was a teenage boy. Zayn walked up to him.

"To enter this building you have to pay a fee," the boy said. He had neat cornrows and a gold earring in his left ear.

"Is this enough fee for you?" Zayn flashed his badge.

"Oh, shit. Po-po's here. This-" the teen raised a lit joint. "Is for medicinal purposes, Mr. Po-lice Officer."

"I bet it is." Zayn pocketed his badge and sat beside the boy. "Why're you on the steps?"

Cornrows shrugged. "Enjoying the view. Best in the whole neighborhood."

Zayn looked around. There wasn't much to see, just litter on the sidewalk and an old car in the street. "I'm looking for a Mrs. Freeman."

"What for?"

"I need to talk to her."

"I aint no snitch." Cornrows said. "But with the right persuasion I could divulge the whereabouts of Mrs. Freeman. Perhaps."

Zayn reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of dollar bills.  

"Old lady used to live here until a few years ago. I think someone broke into her crib, so she upped and left. I've seen her a few times by that Indian store." Cornrows glanced at Zayn "What are you? Some type of Hispanic?"

Zayn handed the boy the bills and stood. "The store around the corner?"

"Yeah. Red Coca-Cola sign and Bollywood music blasting. You can't miss it."

Zayn walked around the block to the store the boy had described. He spoke to the shop owner who knew Mrs. Freeman’s name and he told Zayn that she lived in the building opposite the shop. From the outside this apartment didn’t appear like much of an upgrade from the old building Mrs. Freeman had lived in. He walked through the front door, checked the names on the mailboxes and found one with the name ‘A. Freeman’ on it. The elevator had a tattered ‘out of order’ sign taped on it so he climbed two flights of trash strewn steps to unit 214 and knocked on the door.

"Mrs. Freeman?" He heard footsteps inside the apartment. The door opened slightly, a thick silver chain prevented it from going all the way. A pair of cataract brown eyes peered at him.

"Who wants to know?" Mrs. Freeman asked.

"I'm Detective Zayn Malik. I'd like to speak to you about the 911 call you made five years ago." He held up his badge to her.

"Hand that over." She said. He passed her his badge. She took it and retreated into the apartment. "I aint got my eyeglasses." He heard the rustle of fabric. "Where'd I put them?" A drawer opened. "Oh, there they are. Malik? You a Muslim?"

"I was born one."

"You’re kind of fair for a brown boy." He heard her walk back to the door and it closed before she unlocked the chain and re-opened it.  Zayn walked into Mrs. Freeman’s apartment. It was far cry from the mess of the hall. Not a speck of dust was on the furniture.

“Take a seat, young man.” She told him. Zayn sat on one of her couches. He looked at her table where she had a collection of owl statuettes. “The owl is my favorite bird – it’s full of wisdom. I find them calming.” She sat on the couch beside him, picking up her knitting kit. “What brings you here?”

“In 2010 you called 911 after witnessing an altercation in the alley outside your building.”

“It’s been 5 years – what’s it to you?” She looped her wool. 

“The case has been re-opened.” Zayn said. When Mrs. Freeman snorted, Zayn asked, “What is it?”

“One dead white boy and the whole of Philly PD descends. S’typical.”

“Do you remember that night?” Zayn asked.

“Never had I had my door bell rung so many times. One policeman after the other parading in and out.” She peered at him over her glasses. “My son, Walter, was killed in a drive-by in 2003, you think any of you worked as hard to find his killer?”

Zayn remained silent.

Mrs. Freeman resumed knitting. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told that detective. Big old racist, that one. Was convinced I wasn’t tellin’ him the truth.  The night that boy got killed I had just finished watching my stories…”

##### ***

#####  _June 15, 2010_

Agnes poured herself a cup of sweet tea in the kitchen. She had brewed it herself earlier that day, using the same recipe her mother had given her years ago.  Add a touch of lemon and it was divine. Normally Agnes would have closed her windows by the time it got this late. Just because she was on the third floor didn’t mean some no good cat burglar wouldn’t try to crawl his way into her window. But it was a hot night, hotter than she could recall in recent memory.

She set her tea on her coffee table and sat down, remote in hand. She heard a noise that drew her attention. It sounded like it was coming from that alley that she’d been telling the local council to have patrolled. The place was nothing but a pit stop of working girls and crack addicts, made the whole neighborhood unsafe. She dimmed her lights and walked to the windows and cautiously looked out. Down in the alley a car was parked, its headlights were on and inside she could see two men. She couldn’t make out their features but one of them was shouting loudly. She was about to return to her couch when she saw him raise his hand and strike the other man.

Goodness gracious, he wasn’t stopping. Over and over, he pummeled the other man. Agnes walked as quickly as she could to her phone, picking it up and dialed 911.  She jumped when she heard gunfire.  The 911 worker answered the call.

“Hello, I’m Agnes Freeman. Two men are arguing outside my building. I think one of them just got shot.”

##### ***

#####  _November 5, 2015_

“The police arrived shortly after that. Not that it did much to help that boy, he was burnt to a crisp by then. Took weeks for my apartment to be free of the smell of burning flesh.”

“How would you describe the attacker?” Zayn ask.

“He was white. Couldn’t say how old he was. He was dressed in a red tracksuit. The kind for running.”

Zayn looked up from his notepad. “The file said that the attacker was dressed in a blue hoodie. The first officer on the scene saw him fleeing from the scene.”

“I saw a man in a tracksuit,” Mrs. Freeman said indignantly. “That redneck detective on the case told me that my eyes don’t work right. I may be old, but I can tell the difference between a blue hoodie and red tracksuit. The attacker was wearing red.”

Zayn wrote that down. “There are two other witnesses who gave first eyes witness to seeing a man in a blue hoodie. Is there any chance you could have been mistaken?”

Mrs. Freeman looked Zayn dead in the eye. “I saw a man in red.”

##### ***

“That bird is cuckoo for cocoa puffs. I have two other, more reliable accounts of the suspect being dressed in a blue hoodie,” Detective Castillo said on the phone.

“And by reliable you mean white?” Zayn asked.

There was a pause on the end of the line. “Malik, is there something you want to say?”

“I spoke to your old partner. He said that five cases of yours have been overturned due to evidence tampering.”

“I wasn’t found guilty of anything.”

“That’s because the precinct didn’t want any attention.  And from what I hear, your early retirement isn’t as voluntary as you’d like the masses to believe.”

Detective Castillo slammed the phone down.

##### ***

#####  _November 12, 2015_

The Browning Recovery Centre was situated in an affluent neighborhood in Northern Philly. It was built in 1995 to honor the death of Kieran Browning, the owners’ son who had overdosed on heroin early that year. The building was a Federal style mansion, lined with Alaskan cedar trees with a handsome, manicured lawn. It looked more like a private school than a rehab center. But Zayn figured that with rates that patients paid, that was the purpose. Zayn knocked on Mrs. Browning’s door.

“Detective Malik,” she stood and walked around the large mahogany desk. “I’m Kate Browning.” She shook his hand and led him to the couch in the corner of the room. “Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

She sat on the couch. “I believe you’re here about Liam?”

“Yes,”

“You re-opened his case. It’s been five years, what new information has come to light?”

“I can’t share that with you, Mrs. Browning.”

“Liam had been working at this rehab center for three months when he died. I remember how he always used to say that the patients here were once more than addicts and a drug abuse statistic. That they were someone's sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. He said they could have been us if our lives had gone differently." Zayn felt a chill run down his back. His expression must have changed because Mrs. Browning looked at him quizzically. "What is it, Detective?”

"Nothing."

Mrs. Browning continued speaking. "He was a remarkable young man. He reminded me so much of my son."

"What can you tell me about Liam's counselees?"

Mrs. Browning folded her hands. "Most of our patients are minors; we assure their parents that they will have privacy when they receive treatment at this facility."

"Where there any patients that you can think of who wished Liam ill?"

Mrs. Browning sighed deeply. "There was a girl who developed an infatuation with Liam. It was understandable, Liam was a good-looking young man who had a way about him that engendered trust. Candice certainly wasn’t the first to take to him. But she took it to another level.” Mrs. Browning said. “I shouldn’t tell you this but a few weeks before Liam’s death I walked into her room and to say what I saw shocked me would be putting it mildly…”

##### ***

#####  _May 26, 2010_

Kate locked up her office. She should’ve been heading home for the evening but there was nothing waiting for her beside a big house filled with memories and regrets. Kieran had hated that house, he'd said it was spooky. He had missed California but they’d had to move for John's promotion. She knew it was wrong to think this way but sometimes she wondered if John hadn't uprooted their lives to chase that CEO position whether or not Kieran would still be alive. She couldn't change the past but she could help other families with children battling drug-addiction.

 She walked past the girls’ rooms.  The first door was open and music was blaring on the small radio. That new artist that the kids liked so much, Kesha. Candice was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a diary in her hands.

"Hello, Candice," Kate said.

Candice looked up and closed the diary quickly, placing it on the bed beside her. "Hi, Mrs. Browning."

"How are you?"

"Good." Candice said.

"What are you working on?" Kate walked into the room. Candice wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Nothing."

"Hand me your diary."

"You can't go through my stuff!"

"The house rules say I can."

Candice threw the diary at her and mumbled, "Bitch."

"I beg your pardon." Kate watched Candice storm out of the room. She opened the diary. There were doodles after doodles of Liam. Candice was gifted artist, Liam's likeness was uncanny. One of the Liam doodles was on his knees, a ring held up. 'Be mine, Candice,' the air bubble from his mouth said. Another drawing had Candice wielding a sword, ‘If I can’t have you no one else can.’

Kate closed the diary and placed it back on the bed, Candice was clearly more disturbed than Kate had initially thought she was.

##### ***

 “I told myself not to think too much of it. But then I heard that Liam had been set alight and it gave me a jolt because before she had been sent to rehab Candice had set her ex-boyfriends car on fire.”

"What is Candice’s last name?" Zayn asked.

“Sossman,” Mrs. Browning said.

##### ***

After completing his interview with Mrs. Browning, Zayn headed back to the station, sat down at his desk and became fully engrossed with the case file. Liam Payne had been a drug addict who had been hooked on cocaine from age 14 – 15 and a petty criminal at age 16. After that Liam had spent a stint at a boy’s correctional facility at the age 17. Zayn wouldn't have thought it, looking at the picture of Liam. He seemed friendly. Kind.

Over the years Zayn had learned not to expect much from people, to always find the angle that they might be working. To never give a benefit of doubt. Why should he believe Liam was kind just because he looked it? Someone had wanted Liam dead and it was Zayn’s job to figure out who it had been.

"Yo, Malik." Parker threw a scrunched up paper towards Zayn's face. Zayn caught it. “How's the investigation going?"

"I’m following a few leads." Zayn threw the ball of paper back at Parker. "Can you run a name for me?"

"Sure, give it to me." Parker sat up on his chair.

"Candice Sossman."

"Hmm,” Parker clicked on his keyboard. “Finding a whole lot of Candices, no Sossmans though."

 “She would have had a DUI in 2009 or 2010."

"There’s a Candice Hobbs who was pulled over for driving under the influence back in January 2010.” Parker pulled up her mugshot. “She’s a mighty fine ginger goddess aged 23.”

"Text me her address." Zayn stood, grabbed his jacket and left.

##### ***

Since Candice Sossman had left Browning Recovery Centre she had completed high school, graduated from college and married an investment banker. Zayn rung the bell of her white picket fenced home. A petite redhead answered.

"Yes?" she raised her eyebrows quizzically.

"I'm Detective Zayn Malik, I work for the Philly Cold Case Division. May I talk to you about Liam Payne?" Zayn showed her his badge.

"I'm not sure how much help I’ll be." She stepped aside. "You'll have to be quick. My husband will be back soon and he doesn't know about that stage of my life."

"You were at the Browning House Facility in the summer of 2010?" Zayn asked as he sat down. Candice sat in the winged back chair opposite to him.

"Yes."

"And Liam was your counselor at the time?"

She crossed her arms. "That's true."

"How would describe your relationship with him?"

"He was cute and young and I had a low self-esteem.” She gave Zayn a pointed look. "You can draw your own conclusion."

"How did he feel about you?"

"I wasn't his type."

"What do you mean?"

"On the second week of my treatment I walked past his office. And let’s just say, I finally understood why he hadn't been responding when I flirted with him…"

##### ***

#####  _June 4, 2010_

Candice put on a second coat of lip-gloss. Lady Gaga’s new dope song was playing in the background. She pulled out her cell phone and took a selfie. Say what you had to say about being in rehab but the confinement and gross food was doing wonders for her figure. She had lost three pounds last week alone. She took another picture, this one of her thigh gap. A few more weeks in this place and she'd have a figure to rival Gisele’s.

“I’m a free bitch, baby.” She sang along.

She switched the song off and packed her phone away. Her roommate was asleep. Jesus, 8:30PM on a Friday night. What a grandma. Liam was still around, she'd seen his car out in the staff parking lot. Which meant he’d be in his office. Maybe she could pay him a visit, he always said that he had an open door policy. She smoothed her hair and walked out into the corridor.

Liam was the coolest guy she had ever met. Tall, cute and really smart. But best of all he seemed to get her, unlike those other losers she had dated in the past. He was also really nice. She got to Liam's office and heard low voices. The door was slightly ajar. It seemed like some other ho-bag had beaten her to it. Not that she blamed them, eye candy was slim pickings at this wretched place. She tiptoed to the door crack and peered in. Seated on top of his desk, wearing a white T-shirt was Liam. His arms were folded, showing off his biceps. _So hot_. Candice tried to see the person he was talking to but they were beyond her scope of vision. She’d bet it was that slut Jo.

"-seems like that. That's why they say take it one day at a time." Liam was saying.

"It just seems scary that I have to be sober for the rest of my life." That was a dude's voice. Candice breathed a sigh of relief. She had thought for sure it be that skank Jo trying to get a leg up on her by banging Liam in his office. She still had a shot. But who was it? Scout? Tanner? Chad? She couldn’t be sure, they were all one blurring slideshow of basic. Unlike Liam who was hotter than the sun.

"I was in your position six years ago; addicted and messed up, spent all my time thinking about when I would get my next fix. But I turned my life around and I haven't touched dope in three years."

"I'm not as strong as you, Liam." It had to be Tanner. He was such a wuss.

Liam climbed of his desk and went to sit in the chair next to Tanner. He put his arms over Tanner's shoulder (lucky bastard). "You don't have to go through this alone, Tanner. Every step of the way, I'll be there."

"Thanks, Liam." There was a moment of silence and then she heard the unmistakable sound of kissing. Holy shit? What? Liam and Tanner were kissing. Her Liam, strong, buff, amazing, smart Liam was a fag. Candice quietly stepped from the door before she ran to her room.

##### ***

##### 

#####  _November 12, 2015_

"Liam was having an affair with a male patient?" Zayn asked.

Candice nodded. "That's what I saw. They looked pretty cozy to me. Broke my heart too, because I had the _hugest_ crush on him. I guess what they say about the best ones being gay or taken is true."


	4. Chapter 4

#####  _November 20, 2015_

Zayn wasn't sure how reliable a witness Candice Hobbs was. She was a habitual liar and had a track record of making allegations, but he couldn't just disregard what she had told him. Tanner Thompson wasn’t available to confirm or deny her story because Tanner Thompson had simply dropped off the face of the Earth. After a week of searching Zayn still hadn’t found him. He decided to pay Tanner Thompson’s parents a visit.

##### ***

"He was such a beautiful child. Thoughtful, wonderfully precocious," Mrs. Thompson said. She was regal looking, in her early sixties. She would have been a stunner in her day but now her eyes were permanently etched with sadness. "It all went to hell when he reached his teens."

Her husband nodded. "Tanner got involved with the wrong crowd in high school. We thought a stint in rehab could fix him."

"Where is Tanner now?" Zayn asked.

"He ran away from the facility," Mrs. Thompson said.

"When was this?"

"Around that time that counselor got killed. Tanner sends us a post card now and then, always from a different location. Sometimes the phone rings, when we answer no one speaks. I know it’s him. We've hired a private investigator, closest he ever got to find Tanner was 2012 in British Columbia where someone confirmed they had seen him."

Zayn nodded. He didn't want to be indelicate with his questioning; the Thompson’s were just like the countless parents he had interviewed over the years. Grief clung to them like a perfume, and it was the worst of its kind. The mystery of where their child had disappeared, the countless nights wondering how they could have done things differently. At least the homicide victims’ parents had a body to bury.

"Did Tanner ever speak to you about his time at the Browning Recovery Center?"

Mrs. Thompson nodded. "At first he'd call us, tell us how much he hated it there. He said he’d be good if we took him home. I knew it was an addict speaking." She wiped at her eyes. Her husband patted her arm.

"But we couldn't," Mr. Thompson said. “We knew he'd be back on drugs within days if we did. So we left him there."

"Did he ever mention Liam Payne to you?"

"He said Liam Payne was kind to him. Didn't say anything else." Mrs. Thompson glanced at her husband. "Do you think he ran away because of Liam’s death?"

"I'm not ruling that out," Zayn said. "Could I have a photo of your son?”

"I'll get you a nice one." Mrs. Thompson stood and walked out of the room.

"Detective Malik," Mr. Thompson stared down at his tightly clasped hands.

"Yes?" Zayn said.

"My son and Liam Payne - were they involved?"

Zayn kept his face neutral. "Why do you ask that?"

"Tanner's gay. He never told us directly but the writing was on the wall. My wife, she has her views on this type of thing and is totally blind where our son is involved. But I heard it in the way he'd spoke about Liam, like he thought Liam hung the moon." Mr. Thompson smiled sadly. "I don't care what Tanner is, I just want him to come home. If you find him, you'll tell him that?"

"If I find him, I will." Zayn said. Mr. Thompson blinked back tears and looked away. The silence was too loud, Zayn grasped blindly for something to say. "The postcards that Tanner sends - could I take a look at them?"

"I'll ask Grace to scan them through to you." Mr. Thompson said. His wife walked back into the room, a framed picture of Tanner in her hands.

"He played field hockey. His coach said he might be good enough to play professionally one day." Mrs.  Thompson handed Zayn the photograph. It was of Tanner smiling broadly while holding a hockey stick. He was wearing a red tracksuit.

##### ***

Some of the detectives were having Friday night drinks at the bar down the road. Zayn declined an invitation to join them, he told Parker he wasn't feeling well, not that Parker bought it. However Parker didn't pry and told Zayn to enjoy his weekend. “Don’t work too hard,” he said, as he left.

Zayn found himself driving. It was a cold night and most people were indoors. He didn't have a particular destination in mind but when he looked up he found that he was at the cemetery Liam was buried at. It was insanity. How did he even end up here? He parked the car and trudged through the snow, the cold wind biting at his exposed hands.

He found Liam’s grave. It hadn't been visited in a while. There was a dead carnation, probably layed down months back for his birthday. Liam would have been 28 if he was still alive.

"Liam, I swear I'll find him." Zayn shouldn't be here; making promises he probably wouldn't be able to keep. But he'd already driven the distance and he couldn't just stand there and not say anything. "I'll come back on Monday and bring you flowers."

Only the wind answered him.

##### ***

"It's been five years but sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday," Geoff Payne said. His wife sat next to him. "Liam was our only son, the baby of the family. He'd worked so hard to turn his life around and in a flash he was gone."

Karen Payne blinked back tears and held her husband's hand. "It took me weeks to process that he was dead. I kept expecting him to walk through the front door."

"Could I look through his things?" Zayn asked.

"Yes, I'll show you to his room. After Liam’s funeral his things were brought here." Mr. Payne led the way. He paused on top of the stairs. "I keep the door closed. Karen hasn’t been inside this room since Liam died." He opened the door and gestured for Zayn to walk in. "I'll -"

Zayn watched Mr. Payne. It wasn’t only Mrs. Payne who couldn't look at her son's things. "I'll be downstairs shortly."

Mr. Payne gave him a tight nod and walked back down the stairs. Zayn looked around the room. Boxes were piled around in neat piles, He opened the nearest one. In it were trophies and sports apparel. He closed it. He looked at the next box and found old clothing. One by one he looked through boxes until he found a stack of journals. He opened one at random.

_21 September 2007 - It's my third week in rehab and my therapist thinks it will help if I put my feelings down on paper. Like talking about how I feel wasn't torture enough. But if it means I can get out this dump sooner, then I'll have at it. This place sucks, I can see why Amy Winehouse was all like 'no,no,no' when she was told to go to rehab._

Zayn closed the diary; there were three journals in total, the last one for 2009. It was before Liam started working at the Browning Recovery Centre. They couldn't possibly contain anything that could assist the case. This was where Liam had written down his hopes and fears, his worries and dreams. Zayn never got to know the victims of his cases, he knew some of their secrets, some of their mistakes. He wanted to know Liam. Had wanted to know Liam ever since he saw his photo.

He took the diaries with him when he left the Payne house.

##### ***

#####  _Liam Payne’s Diary –  October 5, 2007_

_I left rehab. I’ve been clean for 35 days. My mom and dad have cleared the liquor cabinet. They say that they trust me, that they know I'm trying but I catch them looking at me sometimes. It hurts to see the distrust in their eyes. But I know I've earned it, I wasn't a good son. But I want to be better. I don't want to be a burden to them. I want to be a son they can be proud of. I want to be able to look myself in the mirror again without feeling self-loathing and disgust. I want to fall in love, have a family. I know I can't have all those things the way I've been._

_I know I can change. I just need to take it one day at a time._

##### ***

#####  _November 25, 2015_

"Malik, what are your Thanksgiving plans?" Parker asked as he rocked on his chair. "And please do not say you'll be working."

"I’m not working," Zayn lied.

"My girlfriend has gone all out this year. Turkey, roasted mash potatoes, cranberry sauce, the works - whatya say?"

"I've got plans."

Parker sat upright in his chair. "Yeah? You're spending the day with someone special?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Something like that."

"How's the investigation going?"

“I might have a lead, Tanner Thompson, a patient who ran away from the rehab center around Liam's death." Zayn picked his files. He'd continue working at home. "See ya." He left the office.

Zayn spent the next day reading Liam's diaries. Liam loved dogs, like Zayn. Liam was passionate about helping people. Liam believed in not treating his counselees like statistics. Liam was funny, kind and considerate.

Liam was also dead.

He’d been dead for five years. Zayn couldn't help but imagine what it would have been like if they had met while Liam was alive. Five years ago Zayn had been a rookie cop, starting out. He'd been twenty-five and idealistic and full of fire. Had they passed each other on the street? Would Zayn have noticed Liam? If he had known Liam, could he have-

It was pointless to think like that. Liam was buried six feet underground. The only thing Zayn could do now was find Liam’s killer and bring Liam peace.

##### ***

#####  _November 29, 2015_

He was at Liam's grave again. He had brought flowers this time, lilies. He didn’t know if Liam would have liked them or not, he'd just asked the florist for flowers that would suit someone beautiful.

“I saw your parents the other day. They miss you." Zayn opened the whisky he had brought with him. He drank from the bottle, the liquor burning his throat pleasantly. "I've been reading your diary. And I feel like I've gotten to know you." He closed the bottle and placed it on the ground. "I've got three dogs.  They can tell I’ve been sad the last few days.  I know it’s stupid, mourning someone I don’t know. You’ve been dead all this time… I feel like there’s something tearing me from the inside."

He said all the things that were on his mind, all the things he kept bottled inside. He said it all and still it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

***

Visiting Liam's grave became a regular fixture of Zayn's day. He re-visited the florist, picking red roses this time. Afterwards he stopped by at the Payne’s. Karen didn't ask why he was visiting.  She sat in the living room and made him hot chocolate and spent the afternoon talking about Liam. His childhood, the dark period of when he had been an addict and his miraculous recovery.

Zayn didn't interrupt, just listened because he could tell that she needed to talk about her son. He also liked hearing about Liam. She didn't ask him how the investigation was going, if they had any leads. He realized she didn't think he would solve Liam’s case and she was resolved about it.

"I have this dream sometimes," she was staring down at her mug, her fingers twisted around it so tightly the knuckles were white. "In it Liam never died. And I feel so happy because we're a family again. But then I'll wake up and realize that it was just a dream. That my son's dead." She was crying freely now, hard choking sobs that sounded like she had been keeping in for years.  "The others, they say ‘time heals all wounds’ but it hasn't. I buried my own child, that's unnatural."

Zayn didn't know what words to say. He kept returning to Liam’s grave because the leads had grown dry. The shop where Liam’s credit card had been used was a dead end as it didn't have surveillance. Tanner Thompson was in the wind. Liam's killer was nowhere close to being found.

"I have to go," Zayn said quietly. Karen wiped at her eyes.

"Will you stop by before Christmas? It's nice having a young man in the house again."

"I will."

##### ***

#####  _December 14, 2015_

Lieutenant Richford called him into his office.

"Shut the door, Malik," the Lieutenant said.

"I don't have any updates on the investigation," Zayn said.

"I didn't call you in to discuss the case." Lieutenant Richford steepled his hands. "This is a small division and things don't get unnoticed. You've been coming into the office looking like shit. I thought getting back on the horse after Chad O’Donnell was the way to go but it seems like I was wrong. You've gotten too close."

Zayn blinked his tired eyes.  "I'm going to find Liam’s killer."

"Can you hear yourself? Since when are you on a first name basis with a murder victim?" Lieutenant Richford said. "I'm taking you off the case."

"You can't-"

"Keep talking and I'll suspend you. Three months without pay." Lieutenant gave Zayn a hard look.

"Who's going to take over the investigation?"

"We gave it our best shot, it's been a month. It's gone cold again."

"I know I can find Liam’s-"

"Malik, this is not up for discussion. Leave my office."

Zayn stood up and left. He was aware of the other detectives staring at him. He knew they were talking about him showing up at work in wrinkled clothing, about the bags under his eyes and the long hours he worked. He didn’t care. He had to find Liam's killer.


	5. Chapter 5

#####  _December 16, 2015_

The wind blew so hard, Zayn’s shutters convulsed. The sound echoing through his apartment. He glanced out of the window and saw that the sky was an angry grey. Thick snow covered the front steps of his apartment building like a blanket. He closed the curtains.

“Not today,” he told Harley, Arnie and Billie Jean who were whining to be let out for a walk. Mrs. Thompson had scanned through the postcards her son had sent over the last five years. Since Zayn was supposed to be off the case, he printed the post cards at home and pinned them up on his living room wall. They were five in total, probably purchased in any Walmart anywhere in America. Zayn nursed a glass of scotch while he stared at the wall. The ashtray in front of him was overfilled with cigarette butts. He had chain-smoked so much that day, his mouth tasted like ash.

Mr. Thompson had refused to give him the originals, so the likelihood of lifting prints to prove that they came from Tanner was unlikely. Zayn had a CSI buddy of his trace the telephone calls the Thompson had received and found out that calls had been made from a burner phone and were virtually untraceable. A dead-end.

He looked at the picture that Mrs. Thompson had given him of her son. Tanner Thompson was a pretty boy, slight in built, with small elfin facial features. Zayn wondered if Liam had found Thompson attractive. If Candice was to be believed, the two of them had been having an illicit affair.  It made his gut churn with acid, the idea of Liam with Thompson. He placed the picture face down on the table and sipped his scotch. His cellphone buzzed.  

“Malik,” Zayn said.

“I got the results back on the postcards you emailed me.” It was Stevie, the techie who worked with the Cold Case team. “I ran a reverse image search on the old man’s birthday card through multiple databases and located the store that sells that particular card. From there I found the SKU number and tracked down which stores had the card in stock in the last six months. Not as many as you would think. A few in Maine, some in New York.”

“Yeah?” Zayn picked up a pen.

“Then I accessed the store point of sale records and tracked each sale they made of that card. I'm emailing you the list as we speak.”

“Could you do the same for the others?”

“The other cards produce a list that is too extensive. The best I can do is to localize the area where the suspect could have been residing when he sent the post cards.”

“Stevie-” Zayn began.

“No worries, Zayn. This stays between us.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.” Stevie hung up.

Zayn opened his emails and started browsing through the sales list that Stevie had sent him.  This was going to be a long night.

#####  _***_

#####  _Liam Payne’s Diary – March 18, 2009_

_I like going through old pictures sometimes.  I take out our family album and set it on my lap and just page through it. I see myself age 5 dressed like a fireman, off to my first Halloween party. There’s me age 14, my face is faux serious while I throw signs gangster style like an idiot. There’s another picture -  I remember the night that picture was taken. I lit the fireplace for the first time on my own, and was very proud that I could do i. I then raided mom and dad’s liquor cabinet to celebrate and proceeded to get blind drunk. My sisters came home and helped conceal up the evidence._

_I look at the pictures trying to see where it all went wrong. I had been happy, once. How had I derailed off track? How had I fucked up my life so badly? I look and look and look, but I never seem to find an answer._

#####  _***_

That night, Zayn dreamt about Liam. They were on an open field. Liam's cheeks flushed from the cold, his lips bitten red. He held out his hand to Zayn. Zayn thought at last he would hear Liam's voice. So many weeks he had spent gazing at Liam's picture and he had never heard him speak.  But in the dream there had been no words. They had walked, Liam's hand in his, damp and slightly cool. The wet slide of leaves under his boots.

Zayn didn't often remember his dreams, but this one stayed with him.

#####  _***_

“You’ve got a little something,” Karen leaned over and brushed his shoulder. She held out a short strand of dog hair.  “You’re a pet owner?”

“Yes, I have three dogs.” Zayn reached for his cellphone and opened a picture of his pets “There's Billie Jean, the only girl of the brood. She's a rescue.”

Karen leaned over to take a look at the picture. “She's a sweetheart. I can tell just by looking at her.”

Zayn opened the next image. “That’s Harley - he’s a German Shepard; he's three years old but acts like a puppy. And last but not least here's Arnie.”

“Liam also loves dogs-” Karen paused looking anguished. She slowly set her mug down. “Liam loved dogs. It's stupid to still be talking about him in present tense. It's been five years. I've seen therapists and they tell me that the reason I can't go into Liam's room or give his stuff away is because I haven't let him go. I just- Liam's...absence left me with a hole right here.” She patted at her chest. “I feel like my baby needed me and I wasn’t there for him. I didn't even know when he took his last breath. He died alone.”

“Liam knew you loved him.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“A blind man could tell how much you love your son. _Liam knew_.”

Karen smiled through her tears. “He would have liked you.”

Zayn glanced down at his lap. He wouldn't tell Karen that he liked Liam too. Maybe more than he should.

#####  _***_

#####  _December 24, 2015_

Zayn drove on the interstate towards Main, towards the address that Stevie had uncovered. Tanner Thompson could be hold up in one of the cabins in the Maine wilderness. Tanner Thompson who had been on Langley Street that night, five years ago.

Tanner Thompson, whom Zayn believed had killed Liam.

He’d made a promise, had vowed it silently to himself as he stood over Liam’s grave. _I will find who did this to you and_ _make_ _them pay_.

Thompson had been missing for 5 years. Apart from his parents who would miss him? Zayn had seen it countless times before, men like Thompson who had families with deep wallets and crocodile tears which they could squeeze out at drop of a hat. With the right lawyer and sympathetic jury of his peers, Tanner Thompson would likely walk.

Take that pervert O’Donnell. Zayn had received a call from the district attorney a few days back and been told that O’Donnell’s conviction might be overturned on a technicality. Evidence in his case hadn’t gone through the proper chain of custody. This made Zayn realize that justice was something that occurred far too infrequently. Even if Thompson was found guilty, maybe he would get a slap on the wrist, five to ten years in some cozy facility. Five to ten years of life that Liam never got to have.

Zayn reached for the gun in his glove box, wrapping his hands around the barrel. The serial had been filed off, it was untraceable. As far as the Cold Case department knew, he was visiting his parents. The car he was driving was a rental, hired under a fake ID.

If they ever found Tanner Thompson’s body, they would never be able to link it back to him.

#####  _***_

The Northern Maine road was covered in snow. Although the car’s heating was on he was freezing. He was aware that he was hungry. He could stop by on the many diners that littered the interstate but he didn’t want to risk getting caught on CCTV cameras.

Wilson was situated outside of York County, Maine. It was a small town comprised of mine workers and lumberjacks - good honest salt of the Earth types. He came to an intersection, the light was red. He could make a U-turn and drive back to Philly. The gun was tucked in his chest holster, a solid weight. A promise. A threat. The light turned green and he pressed on the gas surging ahead. It was too late for second guesses. He was on the point of no return.

#####  _***_

56 Arlene Rd was a long, narrow street. The few houses in these parts were a far cry from the houses in the center of town.  This was Stephen King territory, Maine in its abject despondency. Desolate backwoods. Untamed and haunted.  Zayn parked his car and trekked through ankle-deep snow, wind blowing so hard his cheeks were numb. He hiked through the brush skeleton trees and caught a glimpse of the house. It was small, log paneled with a smoking chimney. The lights were on. He pulled his gun free from the holster.

The wind howled in his ear, so bitterly cold he was worried he would get a frost bite. When Tanner Thompson opened his door, Zayn was going to point the gun to Thompson’s face and shoot him, just like Thompson had shot Liam. Zayn knocked, inside the house he could hear barking.  A male voice hushed the dogs. Footsteps on wooden floors. An unlinking of a chain. The door opened-

“It can’t be.” The gun wavered in Zayn’s hand.  He didn’t know who was more alarmed, him or the man who resided on 56 Arlene Street. The man, slightly older with a face full of dark brown facial hair. The man who looked unmistakably like- “Liam?”


	6. Chapter 6

#####  _June 15, 2010_

The night Liam Payne officially died was during the hottest summer recorded by the Philadelphia weather department, since the department launched in 1872. The weather averaged 79.63 degrees, beating the previous record of 78.63 degrees which had been set in 1995.

It was a Tuesday night and he’d finished up a group session with his counselees at the Browning Recovery Centre. His job wasn’t easy; he looked after 15 or so odd teen addicts at any given point in time. They were demanding, going through a tough period in their lives and often they lashed out. He knew the statistics; most of them wouldn’t kick the habit at their first stint in rehab. Some of them were also battling eating disorders and depression. He never gave up on them because he knew that most of them just wanted the assurance of knowing that there was someone out in the world who actually gave a damn about them.

The AC was on full blast, humming in the corner of the room. He had files to complete for the teens who were nearing the end of their stay at the facility. Tanner Thompson was one of them. Liam’s fingers hovered over the keyboard keys. Cocaine and Xanax were Tanner’s drugs of choice. For his first ten days at the BRC, Tanner had stayed in the medical wing, sweating through his withdrawal. That’s were Liam first met him, Tanner had been a diminutive figure on the hospital gurney, arms handcuffed to the bed.

“Please.” Tanner had said. “Let me go. I won’t touch that shit anymore. I promise.” Liam had glanced at the sister who was on duty that day. She shook her head slowly. Tanner was a flight risk, he couldn’t be released from his restraints. Liam had pulled a chair up by Tanner’s bedside.

“I’m Liam; I’m a junior counselor.” Liam had held Tanner’s restrained, limp right hand. Tanner gripped Liam’s hand, his eyes bugging out of his head, desperation pouring from his skin in waves.

“Liam, they don’t believe me when I tell them.” Tanner swallowed, his nails digging into Liam’s skin. “I’m better.”

“Tanner,” Liam carefully pulled his hand free. “I can’t let you go. But what I can do is sit with you for as long as you need me to.”

Tanner had squeezed his eyes closed, tears sliding down his ashen cheeks. “I want to go home.”

“You need to be here in order to get better.”

“I want to leave.” Tanner was sobbing openly. Heavy, cracking sobs that made his frail body heave. Liam placed his hand on Tanner’s shoulder.

“There, there. Let it all out.” Liam had stayed with Tanner for the rest of the night.  He had visited the next night, and the next. It wasn’t part of his job, but Liam remembered what it was like to be in the throes of withdrawal. It was a pain he couldn’t even begin to describe; every inch of his body had ached and he felt like he was being wringed inside out. So he’d stayed by Tanner’s bedside.

What a difference 45 days made. Tanner had transformed from the gaunt boy on the hospital gurney that night. He’d gained weight; his cheeks were flush with color. He was on the road to recovery but Liam didn’t feel that Tanner was ready for the outside world.

Liam typed ‘Not recommended’ and emailed the document to the head of the department. Afterwards he locked his office and walked down the corridor. The nighttime supervisor was in the reception booth. Liam waved goodbye to him and headed towards the parking lot. He was unlocking his car when he got the feeling that something wasn’t right. In the window’s reflection, he saw a figure behind him. Liam turned around, so startled he dropped his keys.

“Jesus Christ, Tanner. What are you doing out here?” Liam bent down and picked his keys. Tanner was hunched over, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“I need to get out, Liam.” Tanner looked over his shoulder. “Just for a few hours.”

“You know you can’t leave.”

“I’ll be back before morning roll-call.”

“You’re looking for a fix?  You’re going to throw away weeks of hard work?” Liam said. “Go back inside and I’ll pretend this never happened.”

“I thought you would understand. You like me.” Tanner stepped forward.

“Tanner, I care for you as a counselor.”

“But the kiss-”

“You kissed me. And as I told you under no circumstances would that ever happen again.” Liam turned around and unlocked his car.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this.” Tanner’s voice was hard. Liam heard the sound of a gun being cocked. He turned around slowly. “It belongs to my friend. He slipped it to me last week during his visit. I’m not looking for a fix – I have business to handle. You just need to get into the car and drive where I tell you okay, Liam?”

“Tanner-”

“The only word I want to hear coming out of your mouth right now, is ‘okay’.”

Liam considered his options. The nighttime guard was in the other wing of the building. Liam could always shout for help. Maybe someone would hear him. Tanner wasn’t high. But he was clearly unhinged. Calling for help meant more people being at Tanner’s mercy. Liam nodded once.

“Okay.”

“Get in the car.” Tanner said. Liam climbed into the car and started it. Tanner climbed in the seat behind Liam. “You’re going to follow my instructions. I like you, Liam. I’d hate to have to shoot you in the head.”

“You wouldn’t do that.” Liam reversed the car.

“I’ve done plenty of things I’ve never thought I would.”

Liam stopped at the gate. He lowered the window and swiped his staff card. The motorized gate opened. “This business you have to handle, does it involves drugs?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head, Liam.” Tanner said.  “Where’s your phone?” Tanner suddenly asked. Liam dug around his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, he handed the phone to Tanner.  “Pull up on that street. I wouldn’t want you to try something while I’m on the phone.”

Liam did as asked, leaving the engine running. Tanner was on the phone. “Yep, I got out…You’ve got my stuff?”

Unintelligible talking on the other line “You brought the loot?”

 More intelligible talking.

“Langley Street? Yeah, I know it. See you.” Tanner glanced at Liam. “Head towards your place. I have to change.”

Liam drove the familiar route to his apartment. When they got to the building, Tanner instructed Liam to get out of the car and pressed the gun to Liam’s back and they walked in, taking the stairs. Liam unlocked his front door and walked in, Tanner close behind him.

“I expected swankier digs from you. I guess that junior drug counseling check doesn’t stretch far. Give me your keys.” Tanner demanded. Liam handed them to Tanner. “Go into the kitchen.”  Liam did as he was instructed. Tanner opened Liam’s kitchen drawers and dug through them.  He found a scissor and took off his t-shirt, cutting it into neat thin pieces.

 “You wouldn’t expect it but I was a boy scout. I got taught some handy things. Like knots that you can’t pull free. Sit down and lift your hands.” Tanner tied Liam’s hand to the oven handle. He tied Liam’s ankles together, and gagged him. “I’ll take a shower and freshen up, don’t go anywhere.” Tanner patted Liam’s cheek.

Liam watched Tanner retreat out of the room before he tried to free his hands. The knots were tight. He heard the shower run and Tanner humming. Liam looked around. His knife set was on the counter. He tugged his hands and felt the fabric cut into his wrists. It was futile. He heard the shower door shut. And Tanner moving around in the bathroom. The squeaky sink faucet ran. Then it was closed. The bathroom door opened. Wet feet on tiled floors.

“Your clothes leave much to be desired.” Tanner shouted. “But I do like this red jacket tracksuit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it.”

Drawers opened and closed. The rustle of fabric.  “CK jeans. Kind of lose but they’ll do. I like this T-shirt.”

Liam heard Tanner walk out of the bedroom and entered the kitchen. Tanner was dressed in Liam’s clothes. He had the clothes he had been wearing stacked in a pile in his hand.  He placed them on the counter and cut Liam lose.

“Remember I have the gun, so don’t try anything.” Tanner freed Liam’s feet then his hands. “Put the red tracksuit on.”

“It’s a million degrees,” Liam said.

“Put it on.” Tanner nudged Liam’s lower back with his gun. Liam pulled off his T-shirt and jeans and put on the red tracksuit. Tanner watched him as he changed. “That wasn’t so hard. I knew red was your color.  Now we’ll continue with our adventure.”

#####  _***_

 “You’re going to get onto Chapel,” Tanner said.

Liam followed Tanner’s instructions, driving in leisurely pace through the leafy suburbs. He took a left at the stop street, and joined Chapel as Tanner had instructed. Over the next ten minutes Tanner gave him instructions. They left the suburbs, joined the highway before taking an off-ramp headed to West Philly.

Liam was strangely calm. Tanner was unhinged but Liam didn’t think he was in danger. Despite all the big talk from Tanner whatever this was, it was drug related. Tanner was either buying to use or to sell.

“You can still call this off,” Liam said.

“Too late. I’m expected.”

Liam turned the AC in his car up before he pulled out a handkerchief and blotted his face. He was feeling hot, sweat dripping down in rivulets. They reached Langley Street and Tanner guided him into an alley.

“Turn off your lights,” Tanner said.

“Who are you meeting?”

“That’s not your concern. You know what? If you keep yacking I’m going to lock you in the trunk. Get out.”

Liam opened the driver’s door and climbed out of the car. Tanner led him by gunpoint into the trunk. Liam climbed in, and it closed after him. He heard Tanner get back into the car, the vehicle heaving under Tanner’s weight. Liam’s body was bent in half.  The air in the trunk was hot, stifling. For the first time since Tanner pulled the gun on him, Liam was afraid.

***

Liam wasn’t sure how long he was in the trunk. It could have been ten minutes or an hour. He heard voices. The car dipped. Whoever Tanner had been waiting for had arrived.

“Nice car,” A male voice said. Deep. Older. Boston accented?

“Thanks.” This was Tanner.

“Your friend said that you were going to be held up for another month or so in rehab.”

“I got out.” Tanner said. “You brought the stuff?”

“It’s all there.” The man said.

“I still need to-” There was a crack of a hand on flesh.

“You are going to listen closely, boy. We’re taking over your contacts.” The man hissed.

“Those contacts are mine.”

“You can’t keep this shit from going up your nose and you expect to run a business.” Another slap. “Nothing but a spoilt, rich kid playing at being a thug. You’re too soft. Take this cash and go back to your cushy rehab facility.” In-between sentences the man kept hitting Tanner.

“I earned those contacts.”  Tanner blubbered. There was sound of scrabbling.

“Whoa, Trust-fund brought himself a gun!”

 Liam felt around the carpet on the floor of the trunk trying to find the trunk release cable that was linked to the lever on the driver’s side of the car. He felt the cords and pulled on them.  When he heard the faint clink of the trunk unlocking he climbed out of the trunk.

“Since you’re pointing that thing to my face you better pull the trigger, kid.” The man said. 

 “I can’t let you just walk away with my buyers. I earned them.”

“Private schools are a very lucrative market.”

Liam crept along the side of the car, freezing when he heard a gunshot.

“Fuck. Look what you’ve gone and made me do!” The man shouted. Liam had his back pressed to the car, his heart in his throat. He looked both directions – no one seemed to have heard the gunfire. The street was deserted, chillingly silent. The door opened and Liam peered around, he saw a man in a hoodie climb out. The man walked around the car, Liam crept to the other side. The man unscrewed the gas tank, and siphoned it out. He walked back to the driver’s side and doused Tanner with the gas. Liam got to his feet and started to sprint.

“Who the fuck are you?” The man fired a shot.

Liam stilled, holding his hands up. “I don’t know who you are. I haven’t seen your face.”

“This car belongs to you?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know Thompson?”

“He’s a patient at the Browning Recovery Centre where I work.”  In a distance Liam heard a police siren.

“You’re going to walk away from here. If you talk to the police, next time it will be your brains splattered on the floor. I’ve got the car registration. I will find out where your family live and gut them up like fish. Now leave before the cops show up. I already have one body to take care off.”

Liam swallowed thickly and ran around the corner before he paused, taking a breath and peeked back into the alley way. The saw that the man had closely cropped hair and was wearing an oversized grey hoodie. A cellphone was pressed to his ear.

“It’s me. Something went down. Thompson wouldn’t give us the contacts. I had to pop him. His body’s ‘bout to get found, I need your boys in the PPD to make this clean. We mustn’t be linked to this. Yeah, Langley Street.  He’ll be slightly crispy by the time you get here.”

The man hung up the phone, lit a match and threw it into the car. Liam ran down the street, chased by police sirens.


	7. Chapter 7

#####  _December 24, 2015_

 “And I just kept on running. Hitched a ride out of town, thought I could keep my head down for a few months until this entire thing blew over. But then I watched the news and they were saying I was _dead_.” Liam patted his dog as he spoke. “I knew it was that man’s doing. I heard him on the phone talking to someone in the PPD. This was his way of making sure I couldn’t come back. So I stayed away.”

Zayn stared at Liam. He still couldn’t believe it. Liam hadn’t died five years ago. All this time, Liam had been alive.  He was looking at Zayn, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Say something,” Liam said.

Zayn blinked. “I’m sorry - it’s just that- I thought you were- I feel like I’m talking to a ghost.” Liam didn’t look like the picture Zayn had of him. His shoulders were broader. He had a beard, the kind favored by long distance drivers. His eyes were still the same. Kind. They were looking at Zayn with concern. Liam placed a hand over Zayn’s.

 “See, I’m solid.” Liam’s hands were warm unlike in the dream Zayn had had. Zayn pulled his hand free of Liam’s.

“I stayed on the road, worked a few odd jobs. Then I met a guy who was headed for Maine, said he knew someone who was looking for construction workers. I’ve been here ever since, worked my way up to supervisor then a foreman. It’s not a bad life.” Liam rubbed his dog’s ears. “I miss my family. But I know they’re safe as long as I stay away.”

“The postcards being sent to the Thompsons – that’s you?” Zayn asked.

Liam nodded. “I check up on them. They think Tanner ran away and he’s just going to show up on their doorstep. I know that’s not going to happen”. Zayn thought about Mr. Thompson and the heartfelt plea he’d made, asking Zayn to bring Tanner home.  “One family has already lost a son; I thought I could comfort them somehow.” Liam glanced at Zayn. “You tracked me down through the postcards?” Zayn nodded. “I thought I was being careful.”

“You were.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m not sure. All this time I’ve been investigating your murder,”  Zayn said. “I need time. To process.”

“I can imagine.” Liam stood. His dog lifted its head, vague curiosity on its face. “I was about to have dinner. Are you hungry?”

Zayn’s stomach growled. Liam chuckled. “I guess that’s answer enough.”

Liam walked to the kitchen. Zayn heard the rattling of pots and pans.

“Were you going to spend Christmas by yourself?” Zayn called out.

“I have my dogs,” Liam said. Zayn walked to kitchen. After seeing Liam a part of him was worried that this was some dream. In the kitchen Liam had the oven open and was pulling out a cut of mutton. He glanced up at Zayn.

“I'm not a flight risk.” Liam carried the tray to the counter and set it down.

“I know.  I'm -”

“Spooked.” Liam said. “Grab your plate.” They returned to the living room where Liam sat down, the plate on his lap. “Sorry, this place is so small. I've grown accustomed to eating like this. Do you need a serviette?”

“I'm fine.” Zayn sat on the seat opposite to Liam and dug into his food. The Serbian husky whined, big brown eyes pleading.

“Loki, you just ate.” Liam said. “Just a little bit people food isn't good for you.” Liam cut a sliver of meat and handed it to Loki who gobbled it up, bushy tale waving.

“I've got dogs.” Zayn said.

“Yeah?” Liam cut another piece of meat and threw it at Loki. “We always had dogs growing up; it was an adjustment when I moved out and not having any of these guys around. Have you spoken to my family?”

Zayn looked down at his food, remembering Karen the last time he had seen he. “Yes.”

“How're they? I check up on them on Facebook, my sister even accepted my friend request. But it's difficult to know if they're really doing okay or just pretending.” Liam cleared his throat. “And need them to be okay.”

“They're trying to be.” Zayn met Liam's eyes. “They have a room of your stuff. They keep it locked; sometimes your mom speaks about you in present tense. Your death is the great tragedy of her life.”

Liam looked stunned. His hand shook and he blinked, before looking down. “I never meant to hurt my mom.”

“I know.”

“I made the best decision I could at the time. I don't know who that man was. He covered Tanner's death, made it seem like it was me in that car. He has to have a reach-”

“You could have come to the police.”

“And hope you weren’t on the take?”

“It beats living your life like this,” Zayn gestured around the room.

  “ _This_ was the only option I had at the time.”

“There are always other options.” Zayn knew he had said the wrong thing the minute the words left his mouth. Liam stilled and his jaw hardened, cold fury lighting up his eyes

 “You think I wanted to run?”

“Liam, I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t back track, Detective Malik. You have all the answers. What were my options? I shouldn’t have gotten into the car with Tanner, that one’s clear.” Liam’s voice was carefully controlled but there was a myriad of emotions beneath the surface. “I should have let the police know I was alive.  I’ve played the scenarios a million times in my head about it never works out for me.”

 “Liam _,_ in all of those millions of scenarios you didn't have me. We can make this right. _Together_. Tell me you want to go back and I’ll drive you to Philly myself.”

“And what about the man who killed Tanner?”

“PPD will look into it.”

 “I need to think,” Liam said after a long while.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight.” Zayn glanced at his wrist watch. He could feel his bones grow heavy, his back ached from the drive. He’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours and his eyes felt grainy and sore. “I’ll stay in town in the meantime.”

“There’s a blizzard going on outside. You can’t drive on those roads, it’s hazardous. I have a couch you can sleep on.”

“Thank you.” Zayn would be lying to himself if he pretended he wasn’t pleased by Liam’s offer. He didn’t want to be away from Liam.

“Let’s get you some blankets.”

When Liam left the living room Zayn sagged into the sofa, rubbing a hand on his chest. The hollowness that had been eating at him, the abyss he had been sinking into, seemed to have vanished the moment he saw Liam.

Zayn had given up following any semblance of religion as soon as he left home, but a part of him couldn’t help but think that Liam being alive was a miracle.

#####  _***_

He could always run. Pack a bag and head towards the border. Keep going north, maybe Canada. Somewhere he wouldn’t be found. Liam closed the door and roughed a hand through his hair, thinking.

Earlier that night when he had heard knocking he had thought it was his landlord. She kept supplies in the shed and would often drop by to collect them. Or maybe it was Grant, a friend of his from work who had invited Liam to have dinner with his family earlier that week. Liam had imagined that Grant thought Liam’s Christmas dinner was a gun in the mouth. But it hadn’t been his landlord or Grant but a man who was pointing a gun to Liam’s face and whispering Liam’s name like it was penance.  Not the alias, but his real name.

“Liam?” the man on the doorstep repeated.

“How do-” Liam started to close the door. “There’s no one by that name here.” The man had blocked the door with his arm.

“I’m Detective Zayn Malik.” The man reached in his jacket pocket and took out a badge, he held it towards Liam’s face. Philadelphia Police Department. They had finally found him.

“Make it quick,” Liam said. It was bound to have happened eventually. The cop looked confused, his dark eyebrows knitted. Somewhere, in the pit of Liam’s stomach, something stirred. Hitmen weren’t supposed to look so guileless.  The man just stared at him, snowflakes landing on his cheekbones, melting like tears. “Afterwards, call someone to collect my body.”

“Liam, I’m not here to kill you.” The cop brushed at his face with his gloves. He kept staring at Liam. “May I come inside? _Please_.”

Liam stepped back and let the man in. Unlike most people in this town he didn't own a gun. He was thinking that maybe that was a mistake. Liam closed the door and walked into the house. He sat down on the other couch, Watson leapt onto the seat beside him, presenting his head for Liam to pet.

“I thought you were dead, Liam.” Detective Malik finally said. His voice was choked, like it took extraordinary effort for the words to be ripped from his throat.

“As you can see, I'm alive.”  More staring. Liam looked away.

“But how?” The detective rubbed at his face wearily. “The DNA tests and autopsies. You were positively identified.”

Liam frowned. “You really - this is not an act.”

The detective could have been lying. He could have been working with the man who had killed Tanner. Liam opened his mouth and the story had poured out. He'd talked and talked only pausing to make coffee. All throughout the detective had watched Liam as if he were afraid that if he took his eyes off Liam, Liam would vanish.

And now the detective was going to sleep on his couch. Liam returned to the living room, the blankets in his arms. He handed them to Zayn who said a quick, ‘thanks’ and curled up on the sofa. Liam watched Zayn. In the past Liam hadn’t always been the best judge in character but despite that something told him he could trust this man.

#####  _***_

#####  _December 25, 2015_

Zayn woke up to a house that smelled like food. He groggily opened one eye. Loki and Watson were on floor, staring at him quizzically. They were probably wondering who he was and why he was in their seats. He sat up and followed the scent of frying eggs.

In the kitchen Liam wore an apron and was cooking an omelet. It still caught Zayn off guard how different Liam looked. Gone were the baby cheeks and slouch. Everything about him was rugged and masculine. He overlaid the two versions of Liam in his mind’s eye. Dead, twenty-two year old Liam and alive twenty-eight year old Liam.

Liam must’ve sensed his presence because he looked up and smiled. The ache in Zayn's chest grew. All of this time, he told himself that he was working another case and the emotions he felt were because he wanted to solve Liam's murder. He knew he had been lying to himself because _Liam had never been just another case._

“Morning,” Liam said. That smile was the best thing Zayn had seen in a long time. It took his breath away. He paused at the door, frozen in place.

“Um, what time is it?” Zayn asked,

Liam glanced at his wristwatch. “Just after 11.”

“Almost midday?” Zayn had been asleep for hours. He must have been more tired than he’d thought.  “I need to shower.”

“Bathroom’s to your right.” Liam said. “I pulled out some fresh towels.”

“Uh, thanks.” Zayn lingered.

“I would have run away last night if I wanted to,” Liam said.

“It's not that - I'm adjusting. Yesterday morning you were dead.”

Liam had been a ghost to him, a ghost that haunted Zayn's house, his dreams and his heart. Two days ago, he had gone to bed looking at Liam's picture. Now he was looking at the person, grown up and far more beautiful than he'd ever imagined. Breathing and made of flesh and blood. Real. Zayn had never thought that he’d ever speak to Liam. That he could look at Liam and be able to reach out and touch him. That had never been an option until now, Liam was alive and it seemed like the world was full of possibility.

“I guess I'll take that shower now.” Zayn nodded to himself. On the way to the bathroom, he glanced inside Liam’s bedroom. There was a queen-sized bed in the center of the room. The bed was unmade, clothes strewn on the rumpled covers. Mounted on the bedside table were framed pictures of Liam’s family. Zayn felt like he was intruding so he turned around and headed to the bathroom.

#####  _***_

“I wasn’t planning on going all out for Christmas. I didn’t see the point with it just being Loki, Watson and me.” They were seated in the living room. The old CRT television was on, a 90s Christmas film playing. The dogs were napping by the fire; their bellies full after Liam had fed them. “Christmas hasn’t really been Christmas without my family. Even when I was messed up it was always my favorite holiday.” Liam took the plate off his lap and placed it alongside Zayn’s on the coffee table. “How much do you know about me?”

There were so many ways Zayn could answer that question.   _More than I should. Not enough._ “I know that you were an addict.”

“From age 14. I started out on weed and booze, graduated to coke,” Liam said matter-of-factly. “I’ve been clean for over eight years.”

“That’s quite a feat.”

“I didn’t want to go back to how I was, when I was using. I treated my family like shit, stole from them. Swore at them when they wouldn’t give me money.  I was a terrible son and brother. But they forgave me and supported me when I turned my life around.” Liam went silent, his eyes downcast. “For the longest time I felt like I could never make it up to them. That I owed them for still loving me when I was scum.” Liam glanced up at Zayn, his eyes damp. “If I go back could they ever forgive me?”

“They love you, Liam.” Zayn said. “They’ll be happy that you’re alive.”

“After five years? Five fucking years?” Liam covered his face with his hands, breathing harshly. “Shit.”

“You don’t have to do this tomorrow or next week. Or ever, if that’s what you want.”

Liam removed his hands from his face. “Don’t you have to report your case’s development back to your sergeant?”

“No one knows where I am,” Zayn said.

“What did you think you were going to find out here?”

“Tanner Thompson. I thought he’d killed you and ran away.” _I was going to shoot him in the face._

“And you drove out here all the way from Philadelphia, on Christmas Eve?” Liam asked. Zayn didn’t answer. “How were you going spend the holiday?”

“Same as you, with my dogs.”

“You don’t have someone less four-legged who would keep you company? You’re not legally dead like me, what’s your excuse?”

“I don’t have the time to date.” Zayn wasn't lying. But he wasn't telling the truth either. If Zayn really wanted to date, he would. He just didn't see the point. If he wanted sex, it was easily available to him. He could walk into any bar or call Craig the Assistant District Attorney he'd been fucking on and off for the last year.

Zayn knew Craig wanted to take things further, for them to become a couple. Zayn had kept him at arm’s length. He'd told Craig that relationships weren't his thing. With Liam, he'd once thought, drunk one night, he would have wanted to be with him. Not just for sex. To talk to. To hold. To love. He could easily do those things with Liam.

But back then Liam had been dead. Or so Zayn had thought.

#####  _***_

“Liam.” Zayn said his name as if he was tasting it.

_It sounds like home,_ Liam thought. He hadn’t realized how homesick he had been in the last five years. He had been burning up with it. A low-grade fever, but a fever nonetheless. Over the years Liam had imagined going home countless times. He’d imagine climbing into his car and driving towards Pennsylvania. He imagined his mom and dad’s faces when they saw him. How it would feel when he hugged his mom. He’d imagined stepping into his old life. But then he’d remember the sound of the gun going off and the man’s voice telling him to leave and never come back and he’d stayed away. And now here was Zayn who said his name like it was something precious.

“Sometimes I go to the cemetery.”

“Why?” Liam asked quietly. 

“Because I had to visit your grave.” Zayn's mouth twisted to the side, in a parody of a smile. “I kept a picture of you on my bed side table. Every day I’d wake up and look at it. Normally with the other cases, I just want to catch the bad guy and put him away. With you I wanted to turn back time, I knew that it was useless - you were dead. Then I got so angry at Tanner because I thought he was the one who killed-,” Zayn’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I came here to kill him.” Zayn's breath hitched audibly. “For you.”

“Why?”

“Liam, I'm in love with you.”


	8. Chapter 8

Liam stared at Zayn with wide, confused eyes. Why had he said it? There were so many other appropriate things to discuss, like Tanner’s killer and informing the Cold Case team that Liam was alive.

"I know this seems unexpected to you but it’s how I feel. From the first time I saw your picture I started falling and I never stopped."

“Zayn,” there was an edge to Liam’s voice. “You don't know me."

"I feel like I do." That sounded lame even to Zayn’s own ears.

"From the murder investigation? The person in your case file isn’t who I’ve been for the last five years."

“I know you're not that Liam.” Zayn felt like leaving. If he was Liam, he would definitely want Zayn to leave.  

“I don’t know what to say.”

 Zayn cleared his throat.  “I needed you to know...now you do."

#####  _***_

Outside the air was cold. The trees in front of Liam’s house were skeletal with brown leaves hanging off them ready to wither and fall.  The sky was a gravel-grey. Loki and Watson ran ahead, their tails wagging as they raced off. Liam and Zayn followed after them, their twin boots whispering through the snow. It was quiet out here. No city sounds and crowds of people rushing to get to places. Zayn could see the appeal of living somewhere like this. It was serene.

Walking shoulder to shoulder with Liam reminded him of the dream he had weeks ago. Had he somehow sensed that Liam was alive? Was that why Zayn had been drawn to him? He didn’t know.

 “How long have you lived here?” Zayn asked.

“Two years.”

“Do you own the house?”

“Nah. I’m renting, the place belongs to the mom of one of the guys I work with. She couldn’t upkeep it anymore when her husband died.  I pay my rent every month and she doesn’t bother me much.” Liam pressed his fingers to his mouth and whistled. “I get worried when these boys get too quiet.”

Loki appeared first, galloping towards them. Watson showed up a bit later, mouth lolling to one side.  Liam dropped to his knee and patted them.  Zayn watched Liam laughing, eyes scrunched in the corner. He realized he couldn’t watch those eyes smile at someone else, to watch Liam love someone else.

Zayn had lied, earlier. He did want something from Liam; he wanted Liam to love him back.

 

#####  _***_

 After walking the dogs, Liam fled to his room, threw himself onto his bed and pulled the covers to his ears.

The walls of the house were thin and he could hear the creak of the couch every time Zayn turned. The couch was old and had a few springs lose. It wouldn’t do Zayn any good to sleep on it two nights in a row. Liam sighed heavily and climbed out of bed. 

"You're going to hurt your back sleeping like that." Liam couldn't see Zayn’s face clearly in the dark. "Take my bed."

"Liam, I'm not kicking you out of your bed."

"You look like you need the rest more than I do."

"I'm fine here." Zayn pulled the covers over his face and proceeded to feign sleep. Liam hoisted him up.

“Hey,” Zayn tried to pull himself free from Liam’s arms.

“I’m not going to stand by idly while you sleep on that couch one more night.” Liam walked them to his bedroom and placed Zayn on his bed. “Get under the covers.”

Zayn looked uncertain for a moment before he crawled under the covers, Liam got into the bed, facing the wall. He glanced at his clock - 2AM, dawn was hours away. It was strange to have someone sleeping next to him. He could smell the cigarettes that Zayn sneaked out to smoke earlier that day and the cologne he wore. Liam could hear the soft rasps of Zayn's breathing and his own heart started to pound hard in his chest. Liam turned around, so he was face to face with Zayn.

"Do you want to?" Liam asked. The soft, raspy breathing quieted. Liam scooted closer, his knee brushed Zayn's leg. He didn't say anything else, letting the invitation hang in the air. Liam knew _he_ wanted to. He wanted to kiss Zayn. Wanted to touch him.

But Zayn wasn’t doing or saying anything.  Liam moved his leg, grazing the fabric of Zayn's pants. In the dark Liam could see the wet glint of Zayn's eyes. Liam leaned in brushed his lips against the base of Zayn's throat, and breathed him in.

"Liam." Zayn’s hands were traveling; they crept up behind Liam’s neck, fingers pressing into Liam’s skin.  "Before I -" Zayn paused. Liam could feel him shaking. Liam closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Zayn's. "I never allowed myself to imagine - It felt wrong because you were – It felt perverse to want you this way."

"Can I turn on the lights?" Zayn asked 

"Yes." Liam answered.

Zayn reached for the lamp on the bedside table. The lights flickered on, Liam blinked at the sudden brightness. Zayn turned around and settled back on the bed. He lied on his side, facing Liam.

"I just want to look at you.”

 Liam kept still as Zayn traced over his body. Liam felt a hot flush rise on his cheeks. 

"I'm not fine art," Liam said.

“To me you are." Zayn raised his hand and placed it on Liam's upper cheekbones. "The corner of your eyes crinkle when you smile. It's beautiful." He thumbed at Liam’s skin gently.

Liam couldn’t stand to be adored so intently. He closed his eyes, but he could still feel the weight of Zayn's eyes on him. Zayn's hand slipped down his cheek, brushed his lips.

"What do you love about me?" Liam asked. It was a question he'd wondered earlier. He didn't feel like he had earned the adoration he saw in Zayn's eyes. It felt strange and encompassing. The emotion he felt from Zayn thrilled and frightened him.

"I can't put it into words."

"Try.”

"I saw your picture and wanted to know who you were. It was just curiosity at first, you were a mystery I wanted to unravel."

Zayn's hand was warm against his cheek, Liam leaned into it. He wondered what he looked like to Zayn. If it was obvious how much he wanted Zayn to kiss him. Zayn pulled away to turn off the lights and then he stumbled into Liam’s arms and they found each other in the dark.

#####  _***_

Hours later they laid in bed in each other's arms. Liam was too restless to sleep and he could tell by Zayn's breathing, that Zayn was in the same state.

"Was that okay?” Liam pressed a kiss to Zayn's chest.  He hadn't had sex in a while and had told himself that he didn't miss it that much. Obviously a screw or two had been loose in his brain. "I'm sorry if I was too fast."

"I like fast." Zayn said. Liam trailed his right hand down Zayn's chest until he found Zayn's cock and cupped it. Zayn's breathing hitched. "I love you."

Liam released Zayn's cock and rolled onto his back. "Don't."

"Why not?"

"I'm not someone who deserves it."

Zayn scoffed a breath and pulled Liam up against his body. "Don’t say that."

"The closest I ever got to feeling like I was in love was when I snorted my first line of coke. It was love at first sight. That's the only relationship I imagined having for the rest of my life. 'Til death do us part for the perfect bag of blow. Hell fucking yeah."

"You kicked the habit."

"Coke will always be my first love. That's who I am."

"It hasn't been for eight years."

"Just because I stopped snorting it doesn't mean I don't think about it. Because I do."

"I killed a man when I was sixteen." Zayn said. Liam glanced sharply at him, sure he had misheard. "My dad was part of a growing group of Pakistani immigrants in Philly. He met my mom and they got married, they had children and were happy. But then 9/11 happened and our world shifted. Muslims who owned shops in the neighborhood began getting attacked and one night this guy walked into our shop. It was late, just half an hour before closing. He had a gun and grabbed my dad and started beating him. I reached for the baseball bat my dad kept under the counter and hit the guy so hard his skull cracked. He died in hospital a few days later. He was twenty-one."

"That's something terrible to go through at such a young age," Liam said.

“I didn’t let that moment define me. It was traumatic but ultimately it was self-defense. Liam, you can’t beat yourself up for the rest of your life for decisions you made when you were a teenager.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

Liam pulled himself free from Zayn’s arms and climbed out of bed, finding the pajamas he’d been in a rush to get off earlier and pulled them on. He walked to the kitchen.

“You’re just going to walk away?” Zayn called out.

 Liam ignored him. He heard footfall and turned to find Zayn behind him. Zayn had pulled on his pants and they hung low on his narrow hips. Zayn watched Liam.

“Why do you find it hard to believe that I truly love you?” Zayn asked. Liam grabbed a mug from the mug stand and added a spoonful of coffee granules. He opened the fridge and retrieved milk. “You’re just going to ignore me? That’s very grown up.”

Liam let the milk land on the counter with a loud _clank!_ He turned to Zayn.

"My dad loves The Who. He's been to their concerts, has all their records. Any given day their music would be playing in our house. They had this song, Pictures of Lily which reminds me of you. Zayn, you don’t love me. It's more of a morbid infatuation. Like the lead singer had in Pictures of Lily. We’ve fucked, so please run back to Philly and go on with your life."

"You.  Propositioned.  _Me_." Zayn said.

"Yet you were more than eager to have sex with me when it became an offer." Liam spat. He heard Zayn walk up to him and he was spun around until they were face to face. Zayn kissed him hard on the mouth, his body trapping Liam's against the kitchen counter.

"I love you." Zayn said the words over and over, and each time they felt like shards of glass in Liam's heart. How long would Zayn feel like this? He didn’t know the real Liam.

Liam pushed him away, turning around and continued making his coffee. Any pretense of getting a good night’s sleep was out the window, he might as well embrace insomnia.

“What are the bad things that you’ve done?” Zayn asked quietly. Liam shook his head and carried his coffee to the living room. Zayn followed after him, persistent and infuriating. “If you’re this terrible person and I’ve made a mistake by falling in love with you, there has to be a reason, right?” The images flashed behind Liam’s eyes. Labor Day weekend, driving back from the party, Ryan. God, _Ryan_.  “Whatever it is, you can tell me, Liam.”

Zayn’s voice was soft and cajoling. Liam took a deep breath. “It was Labor Day weekend eight years ago…”

 

#####  _***_

#####  _September 1, 2007_

Kelly’s party had been awesome, her parents were out of town and they had left her with an empty McMansion and plenty of liquor in the cabinets to raid. Which they had done with much enthusiasm before skipping the party to look to score. Liam had pawned a few baseball cards from his dad’s stash, stuff Dad had been collecting since he was a kid. Liam didn’t know how long it would be before Dad noticed they were missing? He’d worry about the consequences of it then – tonight was about getting wrecked.

“Did you see how Kelly was checking you out? She totally digs you, man.” This was said by Ryan, his friend. Liam shrugged, he knew Kelly was a hot commodity but she wasn’t his type. Chicks in general weren’t his thing, not that he could admit that.

“I’m playing it cool,” Liam said.

“Just don’t play it too cool, girls like Kelly wait for no man.” Ryan peered out of the window. “You sure this is the place?”

“Yep, I’ve been here before.” Liam responded.  They were driving in an old neighborhood with a lot of big houses, not the usual location for a drug den. He pulled up at the address. “78 Beaker Street.”

They parked the car, jostling each other as they walked to the front door. Liam knocked. He could hear heavy metal music blaring from the inside. Someone creaked the door open.

"'Ello?" A disheveled, reed thin college aged boy opened the door.

"Luke?" Liam said.

"Who's asking?"

"A friend." Liam handed Luke a roll of bills. Luke opened the door wider and glanced up and down the street before nodding his head at Liam and Ryan. Inside of the house was dank, smelling of unwashed bodies, alcohol and weed. There were people lying around, Liam couldn't make out their faces in the dim light.

"Nose candy?" Luke asked.

"Yes." Liam replied. He wanted to get out of this house as soon as he could. The place gave him the creeps. Luke disappeared into another room before he came back and handed Liam two transparent bags.

"The second bag’s free. You know where to find me if you want more." Luke winked and led them to the door.  When they were in the car Liam ripped open the second bag, dipped his forefinger and licked. It wasn't cocaine.

"Meth." Ryan said. "He gave us meth."

"Shit," Liam handed Ryan the packs and they drove to a park that was a few blocks from his house. In the quite lot, Liam rolled up a joint and smoked it before doing two lines. Ryan reclined the passenger seat.

"Aren't you curious what it's like?" Ryan asked.

Liam glanced sideways at him. "I like having all my teeth."

"One hit isn't going to make your teeth rot." Ryan reached under the car seat and pulled out his duffel bag. In it he had a glass bong. He poured the meth into the glass and raised his brow at Liam.

"Don't look at me, I'm not your mom." Liam said. Ryan raised his middle finger to Liam and flickered his lighter, pressing it to the glass and taking a deep breath. "How is it?" Liam asked him after a while.

"Fucking amazing." Ryan held out the glass bong to Liam. "Wanna try?"

Liam was feeling pleasantly buzzed from the weed and coke which was probably why he reached for the bong, allowing Ryan to light up for him.  Ryan snorted the remaining coke. Liam was lolling on the seat, his mind racing when he felt Ryan began to convulse beside him.

“Ryan?” Liam asked. Ryan shook, his eyes bugged out and white foam jutting out of his mouth. Liam started the car. “Hold on, I’m taking you to the hospital!”

Liam blinked, trying to focus as he raced through the quiet streets. He rushed down the main road, turning onto the street that led to the hospital. He glanced at Ryan who was no longer shaking but still. Too still.

“Ryan?” Liam said. No response. Liam drove along the side entrance and parked haphazardly. He carried Ryan out of the car, running towards the entrance. There was a group of paramedics smoking outside the building. “Something’s wrong with my friend. Please help!”

He handed Ryan to the paramedic closest to him.

“What did he take?” the paramedic asked as he lifted Ryan’s left eyelid open.

“I don’t know.” Liam lied. “Just help him!” The paramedics set Ryan on a gurney. Liam didn’t want to be around to answer any questions so he turned and walked away.

#####  _***_

#####  _December 27, 2015_

 “I drove home. Ryan died later that night.” Liam shook his head. His eyes were shining with unshed tears. Zayn did the math in his head. A  year later Liam went into rehab and got clean. Ryan’s death was the catalyst that had scared him sober.

 “Liam, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It happened a long time ago.”

“Why’d you tell me this?” Zayn asked quietly.

“You told me your big, bad secret. I thought I should share mine.”

“Do you feel guilty for his death?” Liam didn’t respond.  “Do you think this story will make me love you less? I never held any illusions that you were a saint.”

“I don’t like how you look at me.” Liam admitted.

“And how is that?”

“Like you never want to look away.”

Zayn smiled wryly. “Maybe I don’t.”

Liam carried his mug to the living room and sat down on the couch, cradling the mug to his chest. “Tell me another secret.”

“What makes you think I’ve already told you a secret?” Zayn sat on the couch beside him.

“Have you willingly told anyone else about the man who attacked your father?”

Zayn had told the police and the counselor his parents had made him see weeks after the incident.  Zayn shook his head. “No.”

“Tell me another secret.” Liam repeated.

“What do you want to know?”

“Something you’ve never said out loud.”

“I…” Zayn raked his mind drawing a blank.

“Don’t think.”

“I didn’t feel bad about killing him.” Zayn said. “I went through the motions, I cried with my parents. I saw the therapist. He was going to kill my dad, I saw it in his eyes. I did what I had to do to save my father and I would do it again.”

 “Thank you for being honest with me.” Liam said. The wind was howling outside, the front door creaking on its hinges. “Do you want to know a secret?” Liam whispered.

“Only if you’re willing to tell it.”

Liam regarded Zayn for a moment. “Not yet. Maybe next year.”

“Next year is only four days a way.”

“Then it’ll be a short wait.”

#####  _***_

#####  _December 28, 2015_

Zayn woke up the next morning to Liam dragging his boxers down his thighs. 

Stark winter morning light shone through between gaps in the blinds, the bedroom door was closed probably to keep Loki and Watson out. Zayn was erect.

“You have a nice cock,” Liam said.

“Thanks. So do you.”

Liam chuckled as he pulled Zayn’s boxers down his legs and unhooked Zayn’s feet. He threw the boxers on the other side of the room before crawling up between Zayn’s legs. He reached for Zayn’s cock and grasped it firmly. Zayn hips bucked up, and he thrust into Liam’s warm hand. He closed his eyes. When he felt a warm mouth close over the head of his cock, he groaned low in his throat.

His fingers curled on the bed covers. If he let go his hands would find their way onto Liam’s head and he would push Liam down. He kept as still as he could, even as he was going crazy with it. Liam’s mouth pulled on his dick deliciously, probably the most amazing thing he had ever felt. He was thrusting up rhythmically, the bed was creaking.

Liam’s free hand was on Zayn’s thigh, a warm solid weight anchoring Zayn down.  Every time Zayn gasped, Liam rubbed his hand in a circular motion as if he was soothing him. When Liam pulled off Zayn’s dick, Zayn propped himself on his elbows and opened his eyes to look down at Liam.

“You taste good. Anyone ever tell you that?” Liam’s lips were red and wet. Zayn’s thighs trembled when a wave of fresh lust ambushed him.  He could barely breathe; there was ache was deep in his chest and in his cock. God, how he wanted this man in front of him.

“Come up here.” Zayn’s voice was gravel. They hadn’t even started and he already sounded fucked out. Liam crawled up Zayn’s body kissing Zayn’s abdomen, sternum, and throat and (at last) mouth. Zayn moaned up into the kiss.

Zayn didn’t recognize the person he was with Liam. He’d always been quiet in bed, his ex, the Assistant District Attorney, had once snidely told him there was very little difference between fucking Zayn and fucking a blow-up doll. Needless to say Zayn had never slept with him again. Who was this person moaning and making the type of sex noises that normally made him cringe? He liked the symphony he and Liam were producing together. It didn’t sound porny or fake. It didn’t feel like he was putting on a show. Liam really was making him feel this good.

As they kissed, Zayn bucked up against Liam noting that Liam still had his pajamas bottoms on. Zayn reached his hand between their bodies and settled it on the hard outline of Liam’s erection. Liam’s dick felt hot, burning through the cotton material.  Zayn squeezed it, swallowing down the moan-whine Liam released. Incited, Zayn reached up and slipped his hand under the waistband of Liam’s pajamas, circling his palm around Liam’s dick. He stroked him before he pulled his hand out of Liam’s pajamas.

“Get these off,” Zayn said.

“So bossy.” Liam rolled onto his back and hiked up his lower body as he pulled his pajama bottoms off. He threw them off the bed. He started to sit up stopped when Zayn pressed a hand on his chest, pressing him back onto the bed.

Zayn kissed Liam’s cheeks and jaw. He licked Liam’s right nipple, before biting it gently and sucking hard on it, drawing on the blood to the surface of the skin.  When he pulled away and saw the red, hard tips of Liam’s nipples he pressed his cock against Liam’s hip, rubbing up against him. He took his attention to Liam’s left nipple, sucking, licking and biting it, while sinking the pad of his fingers on Liam’s right nipple. Liam groaned and Zayn fastened his mouth tighter, pulling hard on the feverish skin. His cock was sliding wetly against Liam’s hip, he pressed closer yet.

Zayn kissed Liam’s chest before he moved down to Liam’s dick. He swallowed down as much of it as he could, eyes watering as he worked his throat and his jaw.  Liam trashed about on the bed, guttural moans leaving his mouth. His hands were in Zayn’s hair, but he didn’t pull on it like the other guys had in the past. They sort of rested there. Zayn worked more of Liam’s dick into his mouth, breathing in the scent of Liam. Intoxicating as fuck.

Zayn replaced his mouth with his hand on Liam’s dick, breathing harshly as he jerked Liam in quick, rapid strokes. Liam’s hand shot down and held Zayn’s wrist.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that.” Liam said as explanation. Zayn removed his hand from Liam’s cock. Meeting Liam’s eye, Zayn licked his palm.  Liam’s eyes went hot. “Detective Malik, are you trying to make me come too soon?”

Liam flipped Zayn onto his back, knocking Zayn’s thighs apart with his knees. He lifted Zayn’s butt up and ran his fingers in-between the crevice, finding Zayn’s hole. He traced the pad of his finger against it as he looked down at Zayn.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. He reached for the lube on the bed stand and proceeded to work Zayn open with his fingers. Liam put on a condom before he pressed into Zayn. This part had always felt uncomfortable at first, the stretch and the burn. Zayn focused on staying relaxed, he was in good hands. Liam was tentative, his eyes focused on Zayn’s face. He wasn’t going go fast until Zayn was ready for it.

“You feel perfect,” Zayn said. He wrapped his hand behind Liam’s neck and pulled him down to a lingering kiss, his heart stuttering in his chest. It all felt like it was too much. He loved Liam, not a picture or ghost or fantasy.  He loved having Liam on him and in him. He could burn away with it all. “Go faster.”

They’re skin was heated and sweaty, Liam groaned as he fucked Zayn, his cock nudging against Zayn’s prostate.  All too soon Zayn came, he arched up, gasping as Liam bucked up and stilled.

Afterwards, they clung to each other like they were drowning. 

#####  _***_

  ** _December 31, 2015_**

  _‘10, 9, 8…’_

Ryan Seacrest was counting down to 2016 on TV. They’d spent the day fixing up the place. Zayn had helped Liam remove the wallpaper and clean the walls. The paint they’d ordered would arrive on the 2nd then they would paint the interior of the house for Liam’s landlord. Zayn had fixed the minor plumbing issues, unclogged the pipe and sand papered the floors. Today had been a good day.

He would store it somewhere in his mind alongside the first time he went to Disneyland, the vacation his family went on when he was twelve down to Cape Cod and the first time he’d woken next to Liam, five days ago.

_‘7,6,5…’_

Liam sat up, counting along with the crowd. He had a party favor hat on his head, the thing was too small for him and looked ridiculous. His fists were pumping in the air. He nudged Zayn with his elbow.

“Four, three, two,” Zayn joined in. He felt like a kid again. He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing on New Year’s Eve last year. If memory served him right, his activities had involved a fifth of vodka and a random fuck.

“One! Happy New Year.” Liam leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. Zayn felt around blindly for the silly hat that Liam wore, knocking it off his head before he deepened the kiss.  The music blaring from the TV faded away. It was just Liam and him, arms wrapped around each other, their bodies pressed tightly.

“Do you want to hear my secret?” Liam asked when they ended the kiss.

“Yes,” Zayn said.

“I’m ready to go home.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

#####  _January 11, 2016_

“We’ll reach the safe house soon.”  Zayn told Liam. They were in a US Marshal driven SUV, courtesy of the Philadelphia District Attorney, who had pulled a few strings within the Department of Justice. If they had been alone Zayn would have kissed Liam and told him not to worry. But the stone faced marshal beside them did not look like he would take kindly to any PDAs between a cop and a witness.

Their relationship wasn’t a secret. Zayn had been honest about it. Telling Lieutenant Richford the entire story, the postcards, his drive to Maine and the illegal gun purchase-including the part about his intent to empty the magazine into Tanner Thompson’s body. He’d expected a permanent suspension-had even welcomed it-but Lieutenant Richford’s first priority was to get Liam to safety then find the man who had killed Tanner. Zayn had spoken to the DA and acquired a protective custody detail for Liam.

“Your family will arrive tomorrow,” Zayn said. The news had been broken to the Paynes a week ago.

“In less than twenty-four hours I’ll see their faces again.” Liam’s voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat. “I’ve dreamt about that so many times.”  Zayn realized how desperately he wanted to hold Liam’s hand.  

“Arriving at the location.” One of the marshals spoke into his hand receiver. He nodded at the other marshal. “I’ll check the back and you get the front.”  The marshals exited the car, leaving Zayn and Liam alone.

Zayn glanced at the driver, who was stoically staring at the road ahead. “If you need me, I’ll be just a phone call away.” Zayn said. He held Liam’s eye steadily, almost building up the nerve to kiss him-there was a heavy rap of knuckles on the car door.

 “You may come in,” the marshal addressed Liam.

And Zayn thought, _fuck it_ and leaned in and pulled Liam into a kiss, slow and sweet. When the kiss ended he was rewarded by Liam's smile. “Good bye, Liam.”

“Good bye, Zayn.” Liam winked at him and climbed out of the car. 

#####  _***_

#####  _January 15, 2016_

Zayn met with Narcotics Detective Jay Diaz in his office. He and Jay went way back; they had gone through the academy before Jay had set his sights on Narcotics.

“Strictly off the table,” Jay said.

“Yes,” Zayn agreed.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Jay pulled out a file from his desk. “Have you ever heard of the Montgomery County drug ring?” Jay asked.

Zayn shook his head.

 “Two punks by the names of Alex Pryor and Grant Michael ran drugs through private schools. Marijuana, ecstasy, GHP, Molly, prescription drugs, anything a little-dope-head could desire, they peddled. They were busted three years ago.” Jay handed Zayn the file. 

Zayn opened the file and paged through it. He saw a familiar private school crescent. It was the same one Thompson had had on his field hockey uniform.  “Tanner Thompson was in business with them.”

“Yes.”

“Where are they now?”  Zayn asked.

“Serving time upstate.”

“I think they're due for a visit.”

#####  _***_

The Alex Pryor seated opposite Zayn looked thinner, older and more beat down than the one from the 2013 mug shot. Zayn hadn’t spoken since he entered the interrogation room five minutes earlier, letting the silence fester. Pryor crossed his arms.

“Is this supposed to scare me?” Pryor asked.

“No. Just wondering how someone like you will survive in a Supermax prison.”

“My lawyer got me a deal. I helped the DEA find my suppliers and served my time here.”

“That was on a drug case. Culpable homicide is whole different ball-game.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Pryor asked. “I don't know anything about homicide.”

“Let me freshen your memory.” Zayn pulled out Tanner Thompson's crime scene photos.  

“I don't know what that is,” Pryor said.

“That, Mr. Pryor, is your old field hockey buddy Tanner Thompson's skull with a bullet through it.” Zayn placed another photo on the table. “Before you doused him with gasoline and set him on fire.”

Pryor sat back, heavy link chains clinking. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Wasn’t Tanner one of your sub-dealers?”

“Yeah, Tanner and I did business for a few months but his operation grew too big. He wanted to go to the next level, meet the suppliers. The money that kid was pulling was insane. We're talking about a couple of hundred grand a month. Could have done better if he wasn't snorting the shit as well.”

“Who was his supplier?”

“I never met him. He never dealt directly with me.”

“Let's hope you're telling the truth.” Zayn left the interrogation room and found Detective Parker waiting for him outside. “Are you babysitting me?” Zayn asked.

“Lieutenant Richford thought you needed a co-pilot on this one.” Parker walked alongside Zayn.

“I prefer working alone.”

Parker stopped Zayn by pressing a hand to his chest. “You're too close to this.”

“Tell me something I don't know.”

“An extra set of eyes wouldn't hurt. Whatya say, partners?” Parker held his hand out to Zayn. “Just until we find the sonaofabitch who killed Tanner Thompson.”

Zayn looked at Parker’s hand before he shook it. “Okay, partners.”

#####  _***_

Grant Michael was just as unhelpful as his friend. He swore vehemently that he had nothing to do with Tanner Thompson’s death.

“If I have a bunch of cops on my payroll do you think I'd be sitting in prison right now? _Come on_.” Michaels said. Parker pushed Michael's head onto the table and held it there. “You can't do this! It’s police brutality. Ow, let me up.” Michael tried to pull free from Parker's grip.

“Are you gonna tell us something useful?” Parker demanded.

“Okay, okay.” Parker released Michael who slumped back on the chair, adjusting his neck before he glared up at Parker.  “A few weeks after Thompson went into treatment we heard something on the street.”

“Yeah, what's that?” Zayn asked.

“One of the top dogs wanted to know where Thompson was. I’d heard that Thompson was in rehab so I passed the information along to him.”

“How do we find this 'top dog'?”

Michael snorted. “He finds you.”

“How would you describe him?”

“White guy, in his thirties. Bald, tall. Speaks with a Southie accent.”

Zayn wrote down the details. “Any tattoos or scars?”

“I didn't see any,” Michaels said.

“Thanks for your cooperation.” Zayn stood up and left with Parker. Outside the room Parker spoke up.

“How's Payne holding up?”  Parker asked

 “He's been moved to another safe house.”  Zayn said. Only the US Marshals on the case knew the new location. Three days ago Liam had called him, “I miss you,” Liam had said when Zayn answered.

Zayn had looked around to make sure that no one was close enough to overhear before he whispered. “I miss you too.”

“My mom wants me to thank you for bringing me home.”

“I was just doing my job,” Zayn said.

“She thinks you’re a saint.”

“If she knew the filthy things I let her son do to me she would probably backtrack on that.”

“Best New Year’s Eve ever.” Liam had replied. “How about a repeat?”

“When this is all over.”

“Until then, stay safe. These people are dangerous.”

“Likewise.”

They hung up. That had been the last he had heard from Liam. Three days ago. Too much fucking time. He didn't want to think about how long it would take to solve the case. Liam had already lost five years of his life.

“Are we heading back to the office?” Parker asked, jostling Zayn back to the present.

“There's something I want to check out,” Zayn headed towards the metal bars. Parker followed close behind Zayn.

“Yeah, what's that, _partner_?” Parker asked.

“I’ll meet you back at the precinct,” Zayn said pointedly.

“What do I tell Richford, if he asks after you?” Parker called after him.

“Whatever you feel like telling him.”

#####  _***_

#####  _January 18,  2016_

“Zayn, you know I can't give you any specifics about an on-going investigation.” Jay said.  He and Zayn were seated in the back of a biker bar. They were few other patrons. Tough looking men who were tattooed up to their necks and looked like the type of people you didn't want to bump into in a dark alley.  “I’ve already said too much.”

“I'm not asking as a cop but as a friend,” Zayn said.

Jay sighed heavily and put down his beer.  “I guess the rumors are true then. You and Payne?”

Zayn remained silent.

“You should know better than to shit where you eat.” Jay leaned across the table when the bikers in the corner began to get more rowdy. “I shouldn’t tell you this.” Jay sighed heavily before he spoke. “Narcotics has a lead. His name’s Kyle Shaw.” Jay reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He placed it on the table. “That's him.”

Zayn took the phone and studied it the picture. “Do you have any voice recordings? Liam says he would be able to recognize his voice.”

“After five years?” Jay asked incredulously.

Liam had told Zayn he heard Tanner’s killer in his nightmare for years after the shooting. Zayn hardened his voice. “Get me a recording.”

“I can’t make any promises.”   Jay pocketed his phone, downed his beer and left.

#####  _***_

“My parents left today,” Liam said on the phone.

“I heard. I'm sorry.” Zayn sighed, holding the phone to his ear. He was in bed, everything he could find on Kyle Shaw was laid out around him. Not that it was much.

“I thought they would want to spend more time with me. And not even that, they know that this fucker is out there. They're not safe.”

“Don't worry, Liam, the best of PPD is keeping an eye on them.”

“Thank you.”

 “How's the new safe house?” Zayn asked.

“Okay.”

Zayn frowned. “Just okay?”

“I miss home.”

“You mean your place back in Maine?”

“Yeah. I had a job, friends. A life.”

“It wasn't real.”

“Just because my name was fake didn't make the relationships I built and the life I had, during the time there, matter any less.”

Zayn felt jealousy curdle in his gut at the word 'relationships'. He imagined what Liam's life had been like in the small town. Who had Liam slept with? Zayn didn't know a way of asking that wouldn’t make him sound like a jealous douchebag.

“How are Loki and Watson?” Zayn asked.

Liam's voice instantly brightened. “The boys are confused by all the moving around.”

“I can imagine.” Zayn said. More dead air. Why was it awkward to speak to Liam today? Last week he had missed him so much he could barely shut-up when he had Liam on the phone, today he was at a loss for words.

“How are your dogs?” Liam asked.

“Good.” Zayn said. More silence. “I guess I should get back to work?” The words came out sounding more like a question. He wanted Liam to ask him not to hang up.

“Yeah, it's getting late.”

“Good night, Liam,” Zayn said.

“'Night.”

Zayn hung up and stared at the phone. _What the fuck was that?_

 

#####  _***_

Liam handed the satellite phone to one of the marshals and returned to the room he was staying in. He’d wanted to go outside and play ball with Loki and Watson but the marshals had been adamant that he stay indoors ‘for his own safety’. Since his parents left; he didn't know what to do with himself. He really wished they could have stayed longer. Seeing his family had felt surreal and he had cried in his parents’ arms for an embarrassingly long time.

“Liam,” his mother had kept saying over and over. “My Liam.”

“Mom and dad, I’m sorry.” Liam had looked at his parents.  His dad was standing stiffly beside his mother, his eyes were red. His mother and sisters crying uncontrollably.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” she said.

“I missed you every day, for five years,” Liam said.

 The fever that he had been burning up with for the past five years dissipated. Liam told them the entire story. He told them about leaving, about Maine. He told them about Zayn knocking on his door on Christmas Eve. He didn’t tell them about him and Zayn being-whatever they were. He felt like they didn’t need to know that. Then they had left and he was alone again. He missed his home, his bed and his things. He missed going out for walks. He missed Zayn.

#####  _***_

#####  _January 20, 2016_

Zayn sat in the police van watching Kyle Shaw go about his business. Shaw had left a Philly strip club around 10:36PM after spending a fair part of the evening watching live nude girls. He'd then climbed in his Land Rover and driven to the center of the city to a hotel bar where he now sat with a group of men, having a drink.

“Can we get clearer sound?” Zayn asked. The technician shook his head.  Zayn leaned in closer to the screen. That didn't make a difference, the sound was still distorted and warbled at best.

“Have we ID'd the men, yet?” Zayn asked.

One of the DEA agents spoke. The big guy. “That's Carl Flores, a known drug dealer. He works mostly in the East Coast. The rest we're still running through facial recognition.”

The DEA gave the other younger looking agent in the car a look. Zayn knew they were irritated with him. As far as they were concerned this was their case. Due to Tanner Thompson, the homicide aspect of the case still fell under the Cold Case division and the sergeant chief had allowed Zayn to stay on as long as he worked alongside the DEA. Teamwork wasn't his forte and the DEA agents did not take kindly to taking instructions from a homicide detective. No matter how much hardball they played Zayn wasn't going anywhere, he'd promised Liam that he would catch Tanner's killer and ensure Liam could go home. He wasn't going to break that promise.

“Shaw is exiting the bar,” the robust DEA agent said. “Stay on his trail.”

 The van's engine hummed to life. Shaw drove out in his Land Rover, and they stayed on pursuit. Staying far enough so Shaw wouldn't know that they were following him but close enough they wouldn't lose his trail.

“Is he heading back to his apartment?” Zayn ask.

“His apartment is back east.” The burly DEA agent answered without glancing at Zayn. They followed Shaw down to the docks where he parked his car and sat with the engine running.

“What the fuck is this shithead up to?” the young DEA agent asked.

 A car approached, a Lexus. It pulled up next to the Land Rover. Shaw exited his car and the driver of the Lexus climbed out. The pair walked to the edge of the water.

“Facial recognition had a hit. That's Track Williams, he's a gun for hire.” The technician said. On screen Shaw and Williams spoke.

“A hitman?” Zayn asked. No one answered him. “Can we get some fucking sound?”

The technician adjusted some buttons and cameras. Disjointed words; _loose ends_ … _collateral…Payne._

“Did he just say Payne?” Zayn asked.

“It sounded like it.” Burly said. His voice was smug. Zayn realized that the news of his 'inappropriate' relationship with a witness had reached Burly.

“He's ordering a hit on Liam Payne,” Zayn said.

“We don't know that for sure. All we have is him chatting to a pal.”

Zayn wanted to strangle the agent. “Arrest him.”

“On what?”

“We can hold him without a formal charge for twenty-four hours.” Zayn got up and headed for the door of the van. He felt a meaty arm grab him roughly.

“Don't be a hothead.”  Burly hissed. “Think this through. Yes, we can hold Shaw for a few hours maybe even Track Williams, but these boys have access to the best lawyers, the suits will come in and they'll be back on the streets in no time and we would have played our hand. Right now, Shaw doesn't know we're tailing him. If we drag him down to the station, he will know we’re building a case against him.”

Zayn took a deep breathe. He knew the agent was right. It was difficult to think rationally when he was listening in to someone putting a price on Liam's head. “Can we get another detail on Williams?”

“We can place a tracker on the hitman’s vehicle,” the technician offered. He held up a small device. “It needs to be stuck under one of his bumpers.”

“Okay, I'll do it.” Zayn took the tracker. Onscreen Shaw and Tucker stood on the docks, speaking in low hushed voices.

Zayn exited the van and jogged across the empty shipping yard. It was cold, and stunk like dead fish. He reached the first set of containers, pressed in close to them,  careful not to make a sound and alert Shaw and Williams that someone else was out in the docks with them.

Zayn reached the last shipping container and peeked around. Shaw and Williams were still talking by the water’s edge, huffs of cigarette smoke engulfing their heads. Zayn ran towards the Lexus and crouched behind the rear wheel. He reached under the wheel and tried to stick the tracking device. The tracker kept slipping.

“It has to be tonight, they’re moving him tomorrow.” He heard a voice say. They sounded close.  The tracker but dropped to the floor. 

“Tonight it is.” A gruff, too-deep voice said. Crunching of gravel. Zayn peeked around the car and saw  two set of feet approach. The Lexus was remotely unlocked.

“When you have him, call me before you carry out the job.” Shaw climbed into his car.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Zayn opened the rear door and climbed into the Lexus, flattening his body on the backseat floor.


	10. Chapter 10

Being in protective custody was hell. Liam couldn't go anywhere in public. Night after night, he ate greasy takeaway which had lost its appeal after week one,  he would have given anything for a home cooked meal.  Sometimes, when he was in bed at night, he wondered if this was going to be the rest of his life. Existing in this stateless state. He wasn't integrated back into his life as Liam James Payne, neither was he ‘dead’.

He didn’t know what would happen to him if the agents didn’t get a lead on the man who killed Tanner? Would he go into witness protection and leave his entire world behind once again? He'd done it already, he didn’t think he would go so readily a second time. He would have to say goodbye to his sisters, parents and Zayn. He'd rather be dead than do that. He wanted stability. He wanted to have someone he could love. Not the meandering limbo he’d existed in back in Wilson. Nameless, family-less and loveless.

He could’ve died at any time in the last past five years and been buried under an assumed name miles from home. Over the years his body would rot and his bones would wither. No one would visit him, no one would lay flowers on his grave. He didn’t want a new life in protective custody. He wanted the familiar streets of Philly. He wanted baseball games with his dad and lazy Sunday brunches with his family.

These were the things he thought about at night when he couldn't sleep. The what-ifs and the regrets. Sometimes he thought about Zayn and the last days of 2015, how they spent them together in Wilson. He wished he hadn’t screwed up their last telephone call. If he could go back to that moment when he had been on the phone Liam would have told Zayn that he loved him.

#####  _***_

A heavy thud ripped Liam out of sleep.

 He reached blindly for his wristwatch on the bed stand, the glow in the dark hands told him it was just after 2AM. He pulled the covers off his bed and walked to the window, glancing outside. The street was quiet and undisturbed. It had stopped snowing sometime during the night. He released the curtains and they fluttered back into its place, casting him in near darkness. He kept still, listening out for more sounds. Nothing but silence.

There were many things that could have caused that sound, one of the marshals dropping a heavy gym bag on the wood paneled floors. Or maybe, the marshals were moving furniture and they dropped the statue that was in the entrance hall. Or -which was where Liam's mind raced to- that was the sound of a body hitting the floor. A dead body.

Liam walked to the bed stand and pulled the third drawer open, he cringed when it squeaked. He quickly pulled the false bottom and reached in until his hands curled around something cool. Liam pocketed the item.

He approached the door to his room. He opened it, glanced left then right. He didn't see anything. He crept down the hall, and looked over the bannister to the ground floor. He could see someone lying on the floor, just the shoes that they wore. Black combat boots. Liam shrunk back against the walls. Someone was in the safe-house. _Shit._ Liam felt a hand wrap around his middle and pull him. He yanked himself free and raised his fist-

“It’s me.” Zayn? The figure in the shadows was Zayn. Zayn pulled Liam in for a hug and spoke quickly in Liam's ear. “There's a man here who's been hired to kill you. We need to leave.”

 “Let's go,” Liam whispered. Zayn nodded and hurried down the stairs. The marshal lying dead on the living room floor was the one that had always been nice to Liam.

 Liam looked away. They headed to the door. A large figure blocked their way.

“Not so fast, Malik and Payne,” the man said.

 

#####  _***_

Track Williams was a nasty SOB. A few minutes into the drive he’d called Shaw to ask how Shaw would like Liam to be killed. Fast and easy like a bullet to the head, or slow, bloody and messy. Shaw had sounded delighted by Williams’ offer but had said Liam being dead would be enough. He just required proof that the hit had been successful.

“Must I bring you his head?” Track Williams asked.

“A picture would be fine - before you finish the assignment, call me.”

 They had hung up. Zayn had lied on the backseat floor, reeling as every bump of the car took them closer and closer to where Liam was being kept. It was a long drive, two and half hours and Williams had stopped once to buy food at a McDonald’s. Zayn had hoped that the DEA agents where tracking the car and would realize that Williams was headed towards the safe-house.

Williams pulled the car to a stop and stepped out, opening the trunk to collect something before leaving Zayn locked in the car. Zayn had had no option but to break the passenger window open and climb out, running up in the direction of house that Williams had entered. He'd seen a flash of gunfire, through the patio windows, and his heart lurched. _Not Liam, please don't let it be Liam_.

Zayn rushed into the house, his weapon drawn. He saw a figure lying on the carpet. He stepped closer. It wasn’t Liam. Zayn climbed the stairs and miraculously found Liam before Williams had.

#####  _***_

“Detective Malik, you can still walk out of this house alive,” Williams said.

“I'm not going anywhere without, Liam.” Zayn said. He knew Williams was lying, the man was a professional killer, he wouldn’t leave any witnesses.

“I figured that you would play the star-crossed lovers so I brought some back-up.” Williams whistled. Zayn and Liam looked at one another. Another man entered the room, he held an automatic weapon which he raised and duly pointed at Liam's face. “How 'bout taking that walk, Malik?”

“No,” Zayn said.

“The feds aren't coming. When I stopped at McDonald’s I disabled that little tracker that you placed in my car. No one. Is.  Coming.”

“Just go, Zayn.” Liam said. “They want me, not you.”

“It's a two-for-one package deal with us.” Zayn directed to Williams.

“Two-for-one, that's real funny.” Williams sniggered.

Zayn glanced at Liam, feeling bile and panic rise up in his throat. He didn't have a Plan B. No one beside the dead marshals knew where the safe house was located. Shaw was finally going to finish what he had started 5 years ago.

Williams dug out a cellphone from his pocket. He dialed a number in quick succession. He placed the phone to his ear, while he watched Zayn and Liam. The second man's finger hovered over the trigger of his assault rifle. If Liam and Zayn so much as breathed they would be shot - was the silent threat.

“I have him.” Williams said to the phone. “Detective Malik’s also here. He placed a tracker in my car. I guess your device works. I was able to disable the tracker remotely. What? Okay.” Williams walked towards Liam and thrust the phone in his face. “Shaw wants to speak to you.”

 

#####  _***_

Liam reached for the phone. The hitman pulled his arm back. “Don't try anything funny like dialing 911.”

Liam glared at him. The man handed him the phone.

“What?” Liam said.

“Is that the way to greet an old friend?” That voice. Five fucking years and it sounded just the same as it had that night. Liam hated how it still sent volts of fear down his spine and made his bladder weak. God, he was a man, not a scared twenty-two year old. He was aware of Zayn watching him. He wouldn't wuss out and cry just because the Boogeyman said 'boo’.

Liam made his voice steel. “Shaw?”

“You know my name. I'm flattered, Liam.”

“Don't be.”

“Come on, you could be a little bit grateful. I let you live that night.” Shaw drawled. “Unlike your buddy Tanner who's pushing up daisies.”

“Why did you?” Liam asked.

Shaw sighed elaborately. “I always liked playing with my food before eating it. Did Detective Malik tell you _why_ your case was re-opened?”

“Someone used my credit card…” Liam blinked slowly. Why hadn't he realized this before? “It was you.”

“Bingo! Faking your death was fun. Watching your family grieve for you was even more fun. But then you had to find yourself a hole and disappear into it. And suddenly you weren’t my own personal soap opera but an anvil over my head, ready to drop. Were you back and working for the Feds? Was I going to get whisked away to serve time? I had to know. So I used your card and the murder investigation was re-opened and an alcoholic, sad and handsome detective was placed on the case. I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas.”

“You really love the sound of your own voice,” Liam said.

“It wasn't too bad, huh, kid? I gave you some time to sprout chest hair and sow some wild oats. But all good things, unfortunately, come to an end. Bye bye, put Mr. Williams back on the phone.”

Liam held the phone out to the hitman silently. He didn’t dare look at Zayn, because he knew he couldn’t hide how scared shitless he was. The hitman was on the phone, cold, killer eyes on them as he nodded at whatever Shaw was saying. Zayn was standing close enough for Liam to feel the heat of his body. The other killer still had the gun pointed at them.

“Zayn.” Liam whispered. The second killer gave him a hard look. Liam swallowed but continued speaking. “It was only a duck pond.”

 Liam met Zayn’s eyes. Zayn furrowed his eyebrows. The hitman was taking a laundry list of instructions from Shaw. Probably where and how to dispose of their bodies.

“Out at the back of the farm.” Liam continued. “It wasn’t very big.”

Zayn had to remember the morning of the 31st. They’d eaten pancakes in bed, Liam snuggled in Zayn’s arms while Zayn had read to him.

“No talking,” the gunman said.

 “Do you remember what happened to the old country?” Liam asked.

“Shut the fuck up,” the gunman pointed at Liam. “Stop chatting to your boyfriend and go to the corner of the room.”

Liam looked at Zayn who nodded. Zayn remembered.

_When?_ Zayn mouthed.

Liam held up his index finger as he walked to the corner of the room. _One minute._

 

#####  _***_

It was a longest minute of Zayn’s life. Had he understood Liam correctly? Why was time going by so slowly? His heart was beating so hard in his chest. He had prepared himself for dying on the job when he had joined the academy but nothing had prepared him for what he felt for Liam. If he lost Liam tonight, he didn’t know what he would do. He concentrated on counting down the remaining seconds in his head.

Ten, nine, eight.  It wasn’t a pond, it was an ocean. The last time he had counted down it had been New Year’s Eve. Liam had kissed him when the hour struck midnight and told Zayn that he wanted to go back home. Liam wasn’t going to be shot down like a dog by Shaw’s hitman.

Seven, six, five, four. Zayn knew what Liam wanted him to do. They had one shot at this. Zayn prayed silently for Shaw to keep Williams on the phone for a couple more seconds. He remembered the paperback he’d read out-loud because, Liam had said he liked the sound of his voice. They had woken up that morning, made love slowly before Zayn had left their warm bed to make pancakes. It felt like the snow days he’d had as a kid when the entire world seemed to stop and it was just his family, cocooned indoors, watching old movies and spending time together because there was nothing else to do. He remembered the book, ‘The Ocean at the End of the Lane’ and its prologue.

Three, two, one.

The old country had blown-up.

Zayn ran towards the door the same time Liam threw the hand grenade towards Williams and the gunman. The henchman looked at the item being thrown at him, realizing what it was. His finger fell on the trigger just as the hand grenade when off. Zayn felt his body engulfed in heat and he was thrown by the force of the explosion to the other side of the room. His ears rung. He couldn’t see anything but blackness.

“Liam!” he screamed. He got to his feet, feeling warm blood seep down his legs.  Pain shot up his side. Something was on fire. He hoped it wasn’t him. “Liam!”

“I’m here.” Liam said. Zayn felt arms grip him. “I’ve got you.” Zayn clung to Liam as Liam repeated the words over and over. As he blacked out, he heard sirens sound off in the distance.


	11. Epilogue

The kids were up. Liam could hear them scratching at the bedroom door. He opened one eye, glanced at Zayn who was dead to the world beside him. Liam rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm around Zayn, kissing him on the temple. Zayn stirred.

He got out of bed and wandered outside, picked up the newspaper and tucked it under his arm. Their neighbor, Mr. Charleston was up watering his garden. Liam waved at him. Mr. Charleston hesitantly waved back. He obviously knew who Liam was and had seen all the tabloid stories.  The case was over, Shaw was behind bars and had given up the crooked cops he had in the Philly PD. His budding Heisenberg empire had been crushed and after the trial Liam would be free of him.

Liam had never thought that the junk his landlady kept in the shed would come in handy. He’d found the hand grenade, that her gun enthusiast late husband had kept, and it had ended up saving their lives.

He walked into the house and turned on the TV. He prepared breakfast, bacon and eggs for himself, Weetabix and milk for Zayn, with some juice, coffee and a side of fruit. Liam was pouring milk into a cup when he felt Zayn’s presence. He turned and found Zayn leaning against the wall, watching him.

“Morning, sexy,” Zayn said.

“Morning,” Liam walked to him and kissed him. 

“Were you singing along to Celine Dion?” Zayn murmured against Liam’s lips.

“They were playing her on TV.”

“I’ve always liked that song.” Zayn started singing along. “ _When you want it the most there’s no easy way out. When you’re ready to go and your heart’s left in doubt_.”

“You’ve got a good voice,” Liam said.

“ _Don’t give up on your faith, love comes to those who believe it_.” Zayn pulled Liam by the front of his T-shirt and kissed him on the mouth.

“Hmmm,” Liam sighed. Kissing Zayn always felt like returning home, after being away for decades. He deepened the kiss, making it slow and sensual, rubbing his groin against Zayn’s. He heard a low growl behind him and he ended the kiss, turning around to find five pairs of canine eyes on them.

“Not in front of the kids,” Zayn said.

“Back to bed?” Liam asked. They could always have breakfast later.

“Back to bed,” Zayn replied.

They raced to their bedroom, giggling like schoolboys. As soon as they entered the room, Zayn kicked the door shut with his foot and kissed Liam until Liam’s head spun. A long time ago Liam had thought he’d never find something he could love more than drugs. He’d believed that there would be no better high.

He had been wrong.   

**THE END**


End file.
